Fear
by Ahn-Li Steffraini
Summary: Set between in that little area in "The Doctor's Daughter" when the Doctor takes Martha home, only goes a bit AU from there when the stresses of Messaline causes old injuries to flare up in the aging Doctor.
1. Chapter 1

**Fear**

A Doctor Who Fan Fic  
By Ahn-Li

**Summary**: Set between in that little area in "The Doctor's Daughter" when the Doctor takes Martha home, only goes a bit AU from there when the stresses of Messaline causes old injuries to flare up in the aging Doctor.

**Note**: Will likely head off into AU-land by the extreme. Deals with a little known canon fact that the Doctor has an extremely weak heart, likely his right if you judge by the pattern that has developed since the 3rd Doctor, although it can be argued that since The Shakespeare Code that his left is now damaged... and I'm leaning on that. I'm not intending to really make this a long one either. Just a real guilty pleasure ;)

**Disclaimer**: Am not making any money from this. Like I've stated, my addiction is likely putting who ever actually owns the rights to Doctor Who kid's through college... _Legacy_ will be updated soon, I promise. I just needed a bit of 10th-whump as a break, lol.

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

Donna and Martha followed him silently, but he was aware of their glances to each other. He wasn't aware of how much older he probably suddenly looked. The youth he had with Rose, and even Martha, had melted mostly away in the Year That Never Was, but if the bone-crushing fatigue was anything to go by it had gone completely.

He felt very much the fictional age he had given, that much and more. Likely closer to his true age... if he could remember it. He felt old. Before, when he had blithely given the age of 900 to Rose he had felt closer to that younger number, but now he felt he should add a zero to the count. Likely was his age. Maybe. He felt it. Jenny had taken some of that away once he'd grown to love her.

His chest tightened again and he felt tears. No. No, he wouldn't cry. Time Lords didn't cry and he wouldn't now.

The Doctor opened the double doors and silently walked to the pilot seat. Donna followed, sitting beside him in silent comfort while Martha closed the doors. With a flick of a switch they were gone from Messaline and he swore he would never, ever, come back. Again, there was a pained twitch in his chest.

Heartsbreak sucked, to borrow the turn of phrase.

* * *

"I'm going to travel with that man forever," said Donna as she walked with Martha down the street.

The Doctor watched them go, and felt the twinge again, only now it was more localized. Right side of the chest, shooting down the right arm. Radiating out. Not simple heartsbreak and grief. He numbly tried to cry out to Martha or Donna, but it came out a strangled croak instead. Oh no. Not like this.

His vision had holes now, and was rapidly becoming tunnel like. He knew Martha and Donna were no more than ten paces away, but they seemed hundreds away. The Doctor lifted one arm... and the blackness swallowed him.

* * *

Martha didn't know why she turned around midway. Maybe it was to see if he was watching and to smile in his direction. But when she did she had the sickening sensation of dread as she watched him slide bonelessly down the side of the TARDIS to land in a heap in front of the doors. Donna followed her glance, and froze in horror at the sight.

They both ran to him then. Martha rolled him over onto his back. "Doctor! Doctor, can you hear me?" she called as she checked him over.

No signs of injury, but his pulse was wrong. It was a thready beat and seemed out of sync, weak. As she held his wrist she could feel it falter, and then fall to a human-like double beat, but even this wasn't good. Martha knew it meant one of his hearts had just stopped. "Donna, call UNIT, tell them to get a medical suite ready and an ambulance here, now. Tell them I authorized it and tell them that if they don't hurry their Code Nine is going to die. Move!"

Donna rushed back into the TARDIS where she had her cell phone and she could hear Donna talking in a hurry to someone at UNIT. Martha concentrated on the Doctor as she felt one side of his chest, then the other. Right side. It was his right side that had stopped. The left was still working but only just. He was, thankfully, still breathing, but shallowly and in faltering breaths. Martha began CPR and was rewarded with a weak beat from that side. She rubbed his chest in soothing circles. There wasn't much else she could do without a full crash kit or an ambulance. "You're going to be fine, Doctor, just breathe," she soothed. "But opening your eyes would help me, yeah?"

His eyelids fluttered and he opened his eyes a bit. "Wha?"

"Doctor!" Martha exclaimed. "Tell me how you're feeling."

"Sore. Tired," he answered. "Sleepy."

"Don't go to sleep yet," she ordered. "Where is the pain?"

"Chest," he murmured. "Arm."

Martha felt her own heart freeze at that. If a Time Lord was like a human then that meant... "Can a Time Lord have a heart attack?"

"... yes... had one... in seventh incarnation. Before that... third... same side... as this... think I'm having another one. For some reason... regenerating doesn't help..." he answered brokenly, and his eyes started to droop. "Martha..."

"Don't go to sleep on me, stay with me, keep talking," she ordered. "Tell me why regenerating won't help so I know what to expect."

"Need significant cardiac strength to survive it..." he answered dreamily. "... to even initiate... no cardiac strength no regeneration. And each one after weakens the hearts until finally the regenerations run out... usually around 12. Haven't... seen... more..."

He was fading, but thankfully she could hear helicopters in the distance - heavy ones, maybe military - coming closer. "Donna tell me that's UNIT I hear!"

Donna came out, a bag in her hand of his things that she could grab. "They said it'd be by airlift to the _Valiant_. They have a full medical suite for xeno-medicine on board and specialists. There's a doctor there who evidently knows the Doctor..."

Martha nodded. "Hear that? Help is on the way, don't leave us yet."

He was already unconscious again. Martha monitored, ready to resume CPR if he needed it. Thankfully he didn't, but his breathing was getting more erratic each passing second. A smaller, but still painted in military colours, helicopter landed in the street as the others circled above, dropped off personnel. Martha realized it was likely to seal off the area. The Doctor meant the TARDIS, and the TARDIS was not something UNIT wanted to fall into the hands of Torchwood. They couldn't know about Jack, or the friendship, but they knew enough of Torchwood to know that the Doctor and Torchwood did not get along.

UNIT paramedics ran with a stretcher and crash kit and knelt by the Doctor's side. Martha knew from working with UNIT that the Doctor was somewhat of a legend in their ranks. They all wanted to meet him but dreaded the day they did. Martha swallowed. Wasn't exactly the greatest meeting for them to see their hero fallen on the streets of London, downed by a heart attack.

She moved out of their way, and held onto to Donna. She was a doctor herself, but she was also too close to this to be impartial. She watched instead, choosing to reassure Donna and herself that it was going to be okay. He would be fine. He was strong.

The paramedics checked him over, announcing a blood pressure that was strange to Martha, and she realized she had no idea if it was normal for him or not. She knew the pulse rate they announced was not, and neither was the respiration or oxygen level in his blood when they clipped the monitor over his left index finger. They gently lifted the Doctor off the cold pavement and onto the stretcher. When the paramedics moved aside for one second Martha and Donna could see the oxygen mask already over his nose and mouth, inter-venous drip in his right hand. They covered him to his chest with a rough wool blanket and strapped him securely to the stretcher. He was tied down, but it was to keep him from falling off in transit. They then raised the sides. "There's a transport being sent for his ship," said one paramedic. "Are you coming with him, ma'am?"

Martha nodded and dragged Donna along. Once they were in the helicopter and the headsets on, she asked, "What's in the IV?"

"Saline to keep him hydrated. Noticed he was a bit dehydrated as well. Morphine for the pain. A blood thinner that he can handle - and a heart regulator. It appears to be helping," said the senior most paramedic. "He's still critical, but at least he should be comfortable."

_And out to lunch with all the drugs in his system_, she mused. She explained this to Donna. "The morphine will likely keep him down, make him rest and relieve the pain. The rest is to make sure his hearts stay doing what they're supposed to be doing."

"When will he wake up?" asked Donna, the fear still in her eyes.

"Not for awhile. He's critical, but stable for now," reassured Martha. "As I said, the morphine will see to that. His blood oxygen levels are already coming up. He's doing better already, but he's got a long recovery ahead of him."

They still rose until finally they spotted the Valiant. The helicopter landed on the pad and a team of people came to the door as it was slid open. Martha recognized them as other doctors and nurses. The stretcher hit the tarmac and was already being taken away to their medical suite and Martha and Donna raced to keep up.

Martha stopped where it clearly said medical personnel only, and hugged Donna. It would have been so easy to flash her own ID and walk through those doors, but she already knew she was too close to this. Even if UNIT didn't, she knew she was. The best thing to do was to stick with Donna and keep Donna from going insane with worry. If Martha left, Donna would be alone. Martha knew that alone would only cause more heart ache and stress to an already stressful situation.

So they waited together.

* * *

Martha had dozed off with Donna in a chair when she heard the doors open. An older man, a doctor, came out and headed straight for them. "Donna and Martha?" he asked.

"That's us," said Martha as she nudged Donna awake.

The other woman stood. "How is he?" asked Donna.

"Sleeping. I won't lie, it was close. I didn't realize how much he needs those two hearts of his, but evidently if one fails, he's all but a goner. He can survive a bit longer than a human can on just the one, but without medical intervention..." this doctor trailed off. "Forgive me, I'm Dr. Harry Sullivan."

"Dr. Martha Jones, and Donna Noble," introduced Martha.

Dr. Sullivan's eye brows rose a notch. "Why weren't you in there with us?"

"Too close, and that would have meant leaving Donna alone," answered Martha.

"Good call," he nodded in agreement. "He had a full right sided cardiac arrest, and the left was not far behind. From what I can see there was previous damage to his right side, I'm guessing he had another one, maybe two. His left shows previous damage as well, but not as much. Now, though, he's going to have to be careful. I'd tell him to stop traveling and getting into trouble, but it follows him around anyway, so there's no point. However, when he wakes up I'm going to advise him to not chase it actively, maybe even take a rest for a few months on Earth. He's going to need it anyway. Surprisingly, he's in good health otherwise. No signs of clogged arteries or the like. Just the damage from stress."

"Well, he's always been a bit high-strung," admitted Martha.

"Well, that needs to come to an end," stated Harry. "I don't know how successful we'll be but he needs to chill the hell out. Starting now."

"Can we see him?" asked Donna.

"Yes, of course," answered Harry gently. "Don't expect conversation. We added another medication to his lines, and he's very deeply asleep. He woke up for a minute when we moved him into his room, and into his bed off the stretcher. Wasn't awake enough to understand where he was, much as I tried to get an answer out of him. If he wakes, I expect he'll be the same way, I'll get a nurse to you take there, Ms. Noble... Dr. Jones, I'd like to talk to you for a minute."

Martha felt her stomach drop as she was pulled aside. "How bad is it really?" she asked once Donna was out of ear shot.

"Bad," answered Dr. Sullivan. "As in, much I believe the universe needs its Doctor, that the Universe can get on with it on its own from now on because it will have to. He keeps going, he's dead inside a year. It's as simple as that. And from what I've read up on him, regenerating is out because it simply depends on the strength of those two hearts to power it. Heart issues means no regenerating. If he retires he lives... and even then it won't be with that same energy. I don't think he'll take that very well."

Martha nodded in agreement. "You're right there. If he retires, and if for some reason he needs to regenerate..."

"He might be able to, he might not. I don't know," shrugged Harry. "But, I've seen more than one Time Lord in my time to know that he can live for centuries, if not longer, on one regeneration alone. From what I understand, and I could be wrong, regenerating doesn't extend their actual life span, they'd live the same amount in one or in many. If anything, given what they need to do and the trauma of a regeneration, my guess is that it actually shortens it. I don't know though. I'm not a Time Lord, nor do I happen to have one... other than the one sleeping under the weight of all the medication... to ask."

"So, when he's awake and strong enough to hear it, I get to kick the carpet out from under him."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Jones... I truly am," said Harry.

"I... I think I need to see him myself now."

"Of course, I'll take you."

* * *

Martha moved silently into the room where Donna sat by the bed. The Doctor was in a modified ICU and it was thankfully private. She knew that an individual ICU was usually private, but one never knew in a military installation. Martha moved the fringe of his hair out of his eyes, her hand lingering on his face. He still had a oxygen mask over his nose and mouth and she could see the mask cloud with his breath as he slept.

He was so pale she could see the small veins in his eyelids. So still, if not for the sound of the heart monitor and the small rise and fall of his chest and the clouding in the mask that she might have mistaken him for dead. The Doctor looked fragile and weak. Donna looked at Martha and she could see the forced mask. "That bad?" said Donna, seeing it on her face.

Martha nodded.

Donna looked back down at his face, barely holding herself together. "Oh."

"He'll be fine," began Martha. "But... he has to retire. Now... or he won't continue to be fine for much longer. This was a gentle warning."

"Gentle, huh?" snorted Donna. "Hate to see... oh... I get it. Yeah, I suppose it's gentle. The Ood warned him his song was ending. I see what they mean now. No wonder he was so spooked."

They sat there with him in silence then.

* * *

Sleep was like a too heavy, but yet comfortably warm and thick blanket over his senses. The pain had taken him by surprise, especially considering he knew what it meant. Time meant nothing. When the heavy sleep lifted just enough for him to hear little snippets of life around him he was aware of how much time passed. But only then. All other times it was as if he had simply blinked and missed the events that surrounded him.

He was aware of Martha once... begging him not to sleep... of the cold pavement underneath him and the all encompassing pain. And then nothing. Shortly after, when the paramedic had lifted his eyelids to run the light of a penlight to test response he had come to with the annoying pain of too much light to the retinas, the contrary thud-thud sound and whine of jet engines, and the sensation of being lifted... and then nothing.

His time sense told him when, an hour or so later, he had been moved from the confining stretcher to a bed and he had come to with all the poking and prodding... and the embarrassment of being stripped down to literally nothing only to be dressed in a hospital gown. Something cold had slid into his vein then and awareness had faded. Before it faded completely he had opened his eyes to see... Harry Sullivan?... and he was confused, but he didn't have time to contemplate it other than relief that if he had to be taken care of like an invalid at least it wasn't a perfect stranger before the heavy blanket of sleep descended and took it all away again.

Now he could feel the weight but was aware of it. He could hear murmurs. Feminine murmurs. Familiar. Somehow... as well as another, male, also familiar. Only one was out of place in the jumble that was his thoughts as he tried to draw everything together. He heard someone moan, and he could barely see... Rassilon, things were blurry... Martha as she leaned over him from what seemed so far away. "He's waking up."

Martha was replaced by Harry. "Doctor, can you hear me?" asked Harry.

The Doctor? Yes, that was who he was. He tried to answer but heard that person moaning again. It didn't even occur to him that it was him doing the moaning. "Sorry, old friend, but I think you need to sleep more..." came Harry's voice.

Again, something cold and sharp slid into his arm. Moments later, sleep was too heavy a pull to be ignored. At least the moaning had stopped...


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: I realize this is a delicate subject matter to a few people on a personal level. Mine too. There is a reason I wrote "Legacy" the way I did. Some of you know, some of you don't. I'll leave that a/n for that story and not this one.

My grandfather died of heart related issues in August. He and I were very close, in fact, he had a major hand in raising me and... okay, I'm giving away the a/n to Legacy here... most of my life was spent traveling with him while he worked all over the place. My education was spent mostly on the road and in meeting the people he worked with. I never went home for the major part of my life except for once... and then I never really had a home after. My place was with Grampa.

Like him, I went into the same field (kind of made sense, considering the upbringing). While sometimes we didn't agree with methods of approach, we usually got along at other times. When I got married, we became distant, and then he retired and moved to where we were instead of going home.

Those of you familiar with Classic Who, does this sound familiar, lol?

After he retired it logically fell to me to follow in his footsteps.

After he died in August after years and years of heart and stroke issues, his former union brothers and sisters came to me to find out what was next in relation to his company, and if I planned, like he had, to lead his company.

At this point I have not (yet) decided.

This story is not about a legacy, however (Legacy is), but is about something else. I guess I write fan fiction as a coping mechanism, I don't know. But, know that if this story hits you on a personal level... you aren't the only one.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

Martha and Donna began to switch off, but it didn't take long, particularly with the UNIT rumour mill, for people who had traveled with him or known him in a previous incarnation to catch wind of his decline in health. Any worries that he might have been secretly carted away to some secret military base... well... Martha supposed he already had been carted away to some secret military base, although one friendly to him. The worries of him being lost to a hostile one soon gave way to the knowledge that he had a _very_ long line of guardians to go through first.

The first day after his heart attack was like the day of. If he moved, it was punctuated by a moan and a nurse would send him back to sleep with a bit of medication, and so he spent the first day sleeping. He still looked ashen and pale, which meant he was by far not out of the woods. A few specialists had been called in - cardiac ones that had been cross-trained in other disciplines and ones who, more importantly, were both the best in their field and were known to be able to keep secrets.

One was ushered in where she consulted his chart.

Martha took her measure, and filled in what gaps she could. "He's still very much kept under - to keep him comfortable - as well as the side effect of keeping them both beating regular and the stress off him," she answered. "His lifestyle is one of very high risk and high stress. The last... mission... was one of both stress, as in job type, as well as emotional. He lost his daughter. I think that blow didn't help him. He also, from what his files say, has a history of heart issues."

The woman, a petite blonde woman read over the charts and nodded in understanding. "I also read that certain injuries, particularly those to organs and the hearts, while being mostly healed in regeneration still retain some weakness. Continued injury or stress will only compound the issue. Much the same as humans, although once damaged, we always have full damage. The fact that he can heal some, if not most, is a huge advantage," said the blonde doctor, and Martha heard the faintly Californian toned American accent. "Forgive me, I've met him before. Unfortunately, I had the unfortunate event of causing some of that damage... and to the same heart. My name is Dr. Grace Holloway. He looked different then. Twice."

Martha's eyebrows immigrated to her scalp, or at least she felt that they did. "What?"

Grace had a ghost of a smile. "I met him while he was on my operating table. He was trying to get up and leave... although... really... in retrospect perhaps it would have been best if he had been allowed to. It's a long story. I've had time, with his help of course, to learn a bit of his physiology. The rest I learned when I decided that I would like to study xeno-medicine... I am one of the few xeno-surgeons in the world, Dr. Jones, and of those I am the best at it. While the others prefer to think of aliens as science projects to disassemble I prefer to think of them as simply other patients deserving of the respect of any others... that brought me to UNIT instead of, say, Torchwood or its equally insular American counterpart."

Martha was impressed. "Why?"

"Well, meeting him, for one. I might have been working for the American version of Torchwood had he not met me first," she answered, honestly. "He seemed so human... so alive. And while his internal workings might be alien, and his mind alien... and his culture even more so... I realized that life on other worlds is much like life on other continents or countries, back when we thought the world was flat. What right do we have to judge another sentient as less than us when we have more to learn from them as equals and friends?"

With a sigh of relief Martha said, "I'm glad you said that. That's how I felt after traveling with him."

"You... you went with him?"

"For awhile," answered Martha. "And it was great... it really was. And then there was a... terrible circumstance. I chose to leave to pursue a relationship I knew I'd never have with him with another. We became friends after that. And now this. Dr. Sullivan says this will likely permanently ground him."

Grace nodded. "I have to agree with him, at least with how things look now. As I say, it's better to play things by ear but at the same time keep the patient from getting his hopes up too high to have them dashed."

Grace led them outside into the hall. "Now, it's better we leave him to rest. Even under all that medicating, he still needs to rest and us talking over him might bring him up and out of it enough to not rest as much as he should. As professionals linked to his care, I think we need to have a conference on this."

"I'm too close..."

"Nonsense. If you're too close, so am I," stated Grace. "And, being close may mean he'll be more inclined to listen to us, all of us, if we present a unified front. I've had a chat with the TARDIS, if one can call it that, and I think she agrees with me. At least I didn't get any sign to the negative. I think, if I read the signs well enough, that she will not let him off of Earth or into any trouble for the short, or even mid term. Maybe even the long term, if it becomes necessary. I found his medical library, which was suspiciously close to the console room and his medical bay... which was also suspiciously close by to the console room. Both places practically next door. So perhaps she understood and agrees. That's how I'm taking it."

"The library?" asked Martha, stopping in her tracks. "It moved the medical part of the library next to the console room?"

"Yes... oh... I took a few books out that appear to be on Gallifreyan physiology, and I'm studying it now. I think if we study it together we can perhaps get an accurate view of how to proceed. There are more in there."

* * *

Days melded into each other, and on the third day he was moved from the _Valiant_ by helicopter to UNIT headquarters in London.

On the fourth the three of them agreed to slowly reduce the amount of pain medication and heart regulating medication to let him start to come out of the drug induced haze and sleep. His hearts sounded stronger, although the right sometimes sounded a bit weak still.

The Doctor was first aware of the sun on his back as he had rolled over to his side and away from the window in his room sometime early in the morning before it came up. Things still seemed hazy, as if from a distance, even if not through a darkened tunnel. His depth perception was really off, if the badly aimed try for the glass on his nightstand was anything to go by as he sent it flying, bouncing off the tiles and spilling water everywhere.

With a tired sigh, he laid down again and tried to get the world to stop spinning and the ache in his chest to subside. Rassilon it hurt. He lifted his hands up to rub his eyes and noticed the oxygen monitor clipped over his right index finger and the IV in the back of his left hand. He had another IV going into the inside of his right arm as well.

Well, that would account for the fuzzy feeling in his head and body. He tried to remember what had happened.

That, too, was fuzzy. He remembered feeling the crushing weight on his chest when he dropped off Martha, and then things tunneled. He'd only been like this once, right after Roz's funeral when he'd...

Oh.

_Oh shit_.

"Not again," he breathed into the oxygen mask.

There was a call button tied to the metal rails of his bed. He supposed he should tell someone he was awake. Ask where everyone was. He didn't want to admit that he was also in a bit of pain, and, he knew, that was to be expected. He was also still very tired and knew that, too, was to be expected. A whole lot of sleep was likely in his near future as it would likely be the only thing he could expect to do.

The Doctor hit the call button. A few minutes later a nurse came in and checked him over. "How are you feeling, Doctor?"

"Tired," he answered truthfully, through the mask.

"And the pain?"

He considered playing it off, but it was reaching a point where he knew she could see it in his eyes. "I'll call your team of doctors, they haven't been far, but I can give you something to take the edge off. If you get anything else is up to them, okay?"

He nodded and she left for a moment before returning with a needle that she inserted into his left IV push. A few moments later the pain in his chest lifted a bit. He dozed as she checked him over again, before patting his upper arm in comfort. He was vaguely aware of a mixture of familiar voices but couldn't place two of the three. Martha was there, of that he was certain. The other two...

The Doctor wasn't quite sure of how long he dozed but he came to a little while later and the sun had moved in the sky. The sky was still blue, but clearly the shadows were being cast the other way and he was in the shady part of the building. His time sense, once it had slowly kicked in, told him he had first awoken in the morning and now it was mid-afternoon. He rolled over and noticed that Donna was reading in a chair by the window.

When she looked up and saw him awake, she dropped the book. "Oh thank God..." she whispered, then she stood up and in a louder whisper, one full of sharpness. "If you ever scare me like that again Space Boy I swear I will kick your skinny slip of nothing from the TARDIS to the moon."

He smiled weakly, although he knew she likely couldn't see it under the mask. Donna, with a look of mischief, hit the call button. "Martha was in here today to see you. You have a team of specialists looking after you. One of them is this xeno-surgeon, someone by the name of Grace Halloway... and the other is a xeno-medical... something or other... by the name of Harry Sullivan. Martha is rounding them out as the third."

The Doctor lay there, his thoughts running in sudden circles as his hearts rate jumped. A warning alarm went off and Donna ran her fingers through his hair. "No, no, no, shhhh, it's okay. They're good... they're with UNIT. You're okay... calm down... relax... it's okay, it's going to be okay," she soothed.

A nurse ran in. "What happened?"

"I don't know, he woke up and I was filling him... as soon as he heard Dr. Holloway's and Dr. Sullivan's names he became alarmed," answered Donna. "I'm trying to calm him down..."

The nurse nodded, but was already on the phone. "Yes Doctor, his pulse and bp jumped... I can do that..."

She hung up, took his head in her hands and looked him in the eyes. "Doctor... listen, shh... you have to calm down, your heart is still healing and this isn't good for you. I'm going to give you something to help you relax now."

"No... I'm all right," he whispered through the mask. "Let me... let me catch my breath... caught me off guard."

He took a few deep lungfuls of breath, ignoring the protests of his chest and close his eyes, allowing the deep calming breaths to let his hearts slow down. The alarms stopped and the pain even eased. The nurse nodded when he opened his eyes again, the weariness clouding them. "Okay, you all right now?"

"Yeah," he whispered, already feeling exhausted. "I think I'm going to... rest my eyes for a bit longer."

"Yeah, Space Boy, you look like hell," said Donna shakily.

He nodded once, and then closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

* * *

Twenty minutes later the three human doctors in charge of looking after the alien known as the Doctor sat in conference. "According to the nurse in charge, and Donna, he had bit of a spell when he found out we're here and caring for him. He calmed himself, but it exhausted him and he's deeply asleep again," said Dr. Holloway. "I didn't expect him to panic but I really should have. The last time I met him I may have contributed to his aversion to hospitals."

"Might I suggest a mild tranquilizer?" asked Harry. "I'd hate to suggest it, but if he panics again he'll do more harm to himself, if he hasn't already. Not an all out sedative, but something to keep him calm but reasonably alert, should he wish to be. It might make him a bit zoned out, though. Just in the day, and give him something at night to help him sleep all the way through it. I know what his sleep cycle is like and he won't sleep well without it because his doesn't match a human's."

Martha nodded in agreement. "It's not something I'd normally suggest, especially when it concerns him and his freedom of choice, but given the circumstances I think Dr. Sullivan has a point."

Grace was still reluctant, but she thought about it. "Well, I'll agree to try it. You're right on that he needs to be kept calm. The Doctor I remember was always calm, but from how you and Donna describe him he's almost manic and the tranquilizer might be required anyway. At least until he's stronger."

* * *

The next day, and he thought it was the next day but wasn't sure. He felt strange and disconnected. Even his time sense, what made him a Time Lord, was off kilter and sluggish. The Doctor didn't know if he was better or worse, but whatever this was he wasn't sure he liked it. He wasn't sure he disliked it either.

And the fuzzy indecision was unusual as well.

He tried so hard to get a sense of things. "Hi," came a voice off to his side and he looked up to see Grace looking down at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Funny," he answered. "What's in the IV? My time sense is all off."

"I know you're going to be calm when I tell you, but even then you're going to tell me off," she answered. "Because of your little spell yesterday we decided, for your sake, to give you something to keep you calm. Things might be a little hazy for the next few days, but you'll be awake when you want to be, and you can sleep when you want to. It's taking the edge off the pain too."

"Oh," he answered, because mostly of the tranquilizer was keeping him from feeling any semblance of his temper rising.

And, oh, he knew it would be if he could get it to rise through through the drugs in his system. She was right on that. He had _words_ for _this_... words for them too. His temper faded and logic slid into place. Had it been his choice, knowing the patient's condition and liklihood of being excitable... and he could be frank and honest about his tendency to be just like that... that he'd have made the very same choice to tranquilize the patient. That took some of the fire out of his temper and left him feeling somewhat defeated instead. Three against one, even if he was stubborn enough to fight them, were bad odds particularly when those three had only his best interests at heart.

"Okay," he finished. "You're right. I have words... but the tranquilizer is also making me see reason. Mostly because I can't give in to a temper and reason was usually right behind it. I'd have done the same so I guess I can't bitch. Too much."

She raised her eyebrows at his use of words, but knew they had won this battle. The war with his health wasn't over, but at least they had won this one. "Good," she said. "Now, seeing as you can see reason... I trust you also know what else I came to talk to you about."

He blinked slowly. "No... no... no..."

"Doctor... you know I love you and I'd always be honest with you?" she started. "And the three of us, looking at your charts, can see the same thing. If you continue living like you do, you will be dead, permanently. No chance of regeneration. And you know it."

"What will I do?" he asked in a small voice. "Grace, it's literally all I have... Gallifrey's gone. I'm the last..."

"One more reason to live, you old fool," she chided even as she felt her own heart drop at that knowledge. "And I'm sure, as I once offered you, that you can come with me... only now you need to accept it. Time to put your feet up and let us do what you've been doing. I know it sucks. It sucks having to say it. Just think about it, all right? We don't want to lose you prematurely."

He was silent, and she could see that even through the tranquilizers that he was falling into a brood from hell. "Now you listen," she took his chin and turned his head to look her in the eyes and she saw the tears he was desperately trying to keep from falling. "Hey, come on, it won't be so bad. Haven't you ever given thought to the word retirement, or did you assume you'd go until you dropped?"

"Grace..." he whispered and she leaned close. "I'm scared."

Her heart clenched. "It's okay... this is uncharted territory, even for you and we get that. And you're not alone in this," she saw his eyelids drooping, and knew that this conversation was finally catching up with him. "Lie back, put your head down. There... shh... go to sleep. We'll be here when you wake again. Just rest."

His eyes fluttered closed and his breathing evened out as his face relaxed into sleep again. She wiped away of her own tears from his admission. Grace smoothed out the blankets over him, remembering the other man she had almost fallen head over heels for and the differences, and similarities, between the two. Her Doctor had been quiet, almost introspective. Shy and proper. Still strange, but then again he was an alien. This one, according to Dr. Jones and the other friend, Donna, was all exuberance and manic energy. Still strange, still alien.

Still a Time Lord.

Physically, however, yes, two different men. Not that much though. Hers had been thin, but not tall. Hair the same colour and grey eyes. This one had the same hair, if shorter and wilder, thicker too, but brown eyes and, while not physically any less thin the height made it look more extreme. Although, to be frank the time in hospital with little in the way of heavy food and the long illness was eating away at what little fat he may have had on him. He was thinner, if the nurse's measurements were correct and they usually were, by at least three kilograms. It was a significant loss of weight in so short a time.

No time like the present to correct any continued weight loss. She got up and went to seek out the nurse and made a few changes to his diet. It was still mostly a fluid diet as his stomach wouldn't handle anything heavy or solid, but it was time to add some supplements to it.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

The Doctor awoke and saw Martha in the room this time, only she was deep in conversation with Harry Sullivan. He still felt numb and disconnected, as well as entirely too calm. Although calm was too mild a word. More like he should care but couldn't raise the energy to do so. He raised his arm and that attracted their attention.

Martha was at his side instantly, as Harry came up behind her. "Hey you, decided to join us?" she asked, smiling as she sat down.

"When am I going to stop sleeping all the time?" he asked, sounding mildly annoyed.

Martha smiled wider, but it was Harry who answered, "When your body decides that its done with the sleeping? Your blood is still showing enzymes only released when there is heart damage, and there is significant scarring on your right heart. Both old, and new. Something you want to tell us?"

"I had a right-sided heart attack in my seventh incarnation," admitted the Doctor. "Scared me... okay, bad choice of words. But it was a bit of a wake-up call. These happen in Time Lords but they are rare. Usually in later incarnations. None so early as that, but there was already one previous, to the same heart, in the third."

"In Stangmoor," murmured Harry, remembering. "With Jo. Yes, I remember now, but you recovered so no one thought anything of it... there was too much going on at the time and you never said anything. I'm so sorry, old friend, I should have taken more notice."

"You didn't know... I don't even remember that far back clearly anymore anyway. Been too long for me," admitted the Doctor. "And regenerating doesn't help. Something is gained, something is lost. And a bit of me dies everytime, but that's the price to cheat death, I suppose. I'm still me at the core but I change. A bit gets more scrambled or unscrambled. I suppose it's a good thing we only get so many because, the closer to the end it gets, the worse it gets."

Harry and Martha looked at each other, and the concern was evident. "And which one is this?" asked Martha.

"My tenth. The one Harry is referring to was my third."

"How old are you, now?" asked Harry, as he adjusted something above the Doctor's field of view.

"To tell the truth, I don't know. The years slid by and, as you know, in the TARDIS things lose perspective unless you have something to keep an anchor... and that used to be Gallifrey. Now... it's gone and that anchor is adrift and twisting," answered the Doctor, and then he yawned. "Oh, now this is getting ridiculous. I'm barely awake before I feel like going back to sleep again... and it's never a back of the mind, gee, I could use a short kip type sleep, it's like I haven't slept in years but it's all I ever do... I can't remember how long I've been in here... time passes and I can't get the sense of it... can't... lost..."

The Doctor tried to fight the heaviness of his eyelids, but he was aware, dimly, of the scattering of his thoughts as he tried to grasp them and make sense of them. The more he fought, the more they slid and scattered like a drop of ink in a large pool of water. His eyes closed on their own volition and he murmured some more, and then fell quiet again.

Martha and Harry watched as he fell asleep, and Harry patted his arm. "I think that would be the sedating affect Grace warned us about with this new heart medication," said Harry. "But, his blood oxygen levels are much better, as is his blood pressure and pulse. I think we're over the hump on this one, but things aren't quite right with him yet. I'm hoping we can avoid surgery... gives me the shivers to have to do it on him with even how much we have learned about his physiology."

"The warning did say he would have lucid moments where he'd be awake, but mostly half-asleep while on it," she agreed, with a small smile. "What do you think he meant by he can't get the sense of time, being 'lost' and all that?"

Harry frowned. "I was hoping he'd be awake a bit longer to find out, but he'd already worn himself out talking with us as it was. If he remembers, we'll have to ask him to elaborate. It's possible he's noticing a side effect that a human wouldn't, something unique to him. Grace said he told her he was scared earlier this morning, and she didn't think it had anything to do with retirement."

Martha hmmed in thought. "Maybe the drugs turned off his time sense... that's what he meant... he can't tell how much time is passing or has passed. It frightens him. It must be like waking up blind or deaf," she realized aloud. "He feels lost without it. Not to mention what he can tell is happening between sleeps is that he's sleeping so long that he's being left out of it, or he's losing time."

Harry blinked and looked down at the sleeping Time Lord and made an _oh_ shape with his mouth. "That would make sense," he agreed. "But we can't _not_ give him the drugs... they're what saved him... are saving his life... right now. He'd be dead if we didn't."

Martha shook her head, then looked up. "I have an idea..."

* * *

The Doctor woke again, and looked over to the rolling table and blinked in surprise. On it was one of those solar powered electronic clock calendar things, as well as a paper calendar - a day planner that each page was dedicated to a week with hours broken down on each day. Someone had written something in it in red pen, as well as blue. He picked up the calendar and flipped through the pages.

The entry in red stated, _At 3:34pm the Doctor collapsed outside the TARDIS outside of my house - Martha_. There were other entries, right down the exact time, or as close as humanly possible, of each time he had woken or had been moved from room to room and examined, and by whom. There was, at first, only Martha's handwriting, but obviously the nursing staff had taken to adding their own additions on their rounds.

He looked at the electronic calendar, noted the date, time and counted the days in the paper diary planner until he reached today. _8:13pm Dr. Jones figured out the Doctor's cryptic statements in regards to the loss of his sense of time. Donna Noble's grandfather, Wilf, bought a clock powered by solar and battery for his personal use until time sense returns. Martha supplied daily planner - Dr. Holloway._ He looked around for a pen, found a pencil instead. It was a mechanical one, but then again, it shouldn't require sharpening either. With a sigh, he forced himself to look at the clock, take note of the time, and wrote his own entry.

_9:52pm - Woke by myself. Still really tired. Thank you for figuring it out if I fall asleep before I have a chance to say so myself._

He put the diary down and lay back. He was, for once, not sleepy. Tired, yes. And his time sense was still conspiciously absent. But that was all he was. He was still in the private ICU room. Although, an ICU was never truly private. The walls were glassed in, the door also glassed and appeared to be a sliding automatic door. Everything was new, state of the art... for 21st century Earth. He rubbed a hang over his face, relieved to note that he had obviously been upgraded in condition and didn't require a half face oxygen mask anymore. Just a nasal cannula.

Everything else was still attached to him. He had tubes to places he'd rather not think about, and his legs were in balloons that inflated periodically to keep him from developing leg clots. The bed was also inflated behind the small of his back, and was obviously for the same reason. That or to prevent bed sores. He tapped his fingers on the table in a staccato out of boredom. He was at a loss of what to do now. He didn't want to go directly back to sleep, but didn't want to do anything that would disturb the other patients... if there were other patients. Who knew? He was obviously in UNIT's care so it was quite possible he was in their installation, where ever that was.

He perused the diary, reading the entries regarding his care. They were plain English and very watered down but told him he had been here for a little less than a week. Dr. Sullivan had been the first one called in due to experience and still being with UNIT. Grace had been called in next due to her experience, education and speciality in cardiology. He had a main nurse in the day who was on call purely for him, and another at night, plus two assistant nurses and three personal support workers working in three shifts with one on each shift. In the diary, at the back, was each of their names, their specialty, and their clearance level with UNIT. For just him and him alone that was ten personnel pulled from where ever they had been before to work here and privately with no other patients in their caseload. He was a bit stunned by how highly UNIT regarded him.

Granted, what they were learning in return was likely paying for itself.

He looked around, then up to by the life support systems above his head. The machines weren't attached to the floor or wall, but had been rolled in on carts. He looked around some more and saw the nursing cart across the room. On it sat a clipboard with his chart on it. Damn. It was well out of reach. Well, for now. Eventually someone would be reading that close by, and they'd put it down within reach. Even with the high clearances there was no way the nurses or PSW's knew how educated he was. They might make a half-hearted attempt to prise the clipboard out of his eager hands but would foolishly think he wouldn't be able to make sense of it, nor at the speed that he could either.

As it happened, he didn't have to wait long as one of the nurses came in with a young man, also in scrubs. "Oh, you're awake!" he said in surprise. "My name is Rory Williams. This is your personal support worker David. For the graveyard shift anyway."

"Eww, hate that term. Especially in a hospital. Bit of bad luck, wouldn't you say?" asked the Doctor, good-naturedly.

Rory picked up the clip board and the Doctor feigned indifference all the while his sharp eyes watched its every move. He was careful not to get too excited, if at all, or they would put it back down to check why his hearts rate jumped. With a smile, he let the nurse take his pulse and blood pressure. Rory listed to one side of his chest, and then the other, before taking a note in the chart, leaving it on the bed as he moved to check the machines.

The Doctor picked up the chart as the PSW began to clean him. He grimaced and asked, "When can I take a normal shower?"

"Have to ask one of your doctors," answered Rory. "But you're doing much better. Hey, wait, you're not supposed to read that."

By the time Rory had seen the chart in his hands, or said anything about it, the Doctor already had read it. Twice by the time Rory was able to take it out of his hands. He'd seen enough, though, to mull over and fill in the blanks. "No harm done, eh?" asked the Doctor innocently.

"I suppose not," said Rory warily as the PSW finished his job.

The two left, and the chart was again across the room on the nursing cart. That was fine, though, he'd had enough time to read it great detail, twice and almost a third to commit the crucial details to memory. What he read made his head spin. Grace had been sugar-coating it. He lay back with a sigh, more tired than he remembered ever being.

Regeneration relied on cardiac strength. He literally had none left.

He was on his last.

So much for thirteen incarnations! He only got ten. _TEN_. But, he had to admit, they weren't a waste. He'd seen far more than any others from his homeworld. He hadn't been kidding either when he said he couldn't remember his age. He had been doing well in keeping track up until his seventh, and the eighth's muddled time line had been far worse. He said nine hundred. Ish. In truth it would likely - maybe - be more accurate to add a zero for nine thousand, but that was old even by Time Lord standards.

Then again, he _was_ old, even by Time Lord standards. Well through his middle age, anyway.

He knew he had been nine hundred and fifty three when he regenerated from six into seven. Seven had traveled for... Rassilon... he'd lost track. Not to mention eight... or nine... Well, nine he could at least account for each year. That one had been at least easy to track. But seven and eight? Oi. That was a different matter.

Or had it been nine hundred and fifty three years since he'd run from Gallifrey on that first flight with his granddaughter?

That wasn't the point. Okay, it was. He was dealing with not having any other regenerations left, even if he still, technically and if he was careful, had many centuries ahead of him... if not another millenium or two.

And by careful they meant stationary. No more high stress traveling. Retire and live peacefully. If he continued the way things sort of ended up all the time he'd be dead of dual heart failure within a year or two.

He yawned and blinked, tired again. Almost sleepy. He pushed it aside to return to his musings.

He could see that his 'career' was over plain as the nose on his face in the charts, and the test results. He'd also always have to take heart medication. Heart problems were surprisingly common in Time Lords, and so there was numerous reference books and case studies in the medical library on the TARDIS, not to mention medical formulae for medications, drugs and even surgical procedures.

Most of which Grace - ever the brilliant woman - had already found on the TARDIS with Martha, pored over and utilized in his case. What they had been able to formulate was already in his medication lines, while they had to make do with human medication from comparing what chemical strings would help, and what ones to avoid. It was even a Gallifreyan tranquilizer keeping him calm in the day time... and... he remembered the other part.

There was also a Gallifreyan sedative that they prescribed to him for at night to help him sleep. Rory had slipped _that_ into his IV push while he had been distracted by the chart. He blinked, trying to hold on to his wakefulness, but he knew - especially since it was meant for his physiology - he wouldn't be able to hold out for very long.

He laid his back in the pillow. In his condition, and he knew this logically, it was far better to simply just let the medication run its course. He knew enough medicine himself to know that if he wanted any semblence of normal life after this it was better to rest now, run later...

With one final sigh, he let himself slide back down to sleep again. He'd talk over options with the three of them in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I decided not to delay posting this story in it's entirety. I am due to start work on Monday (yay!) and it's a new career path for me to end my owned forced retirement from being a Personal Support Worker due to health reasons. Now it looks like I'll be a Financial Advisor. I can live with being in an office - working for a living beats pension any day, especially when it's a forced early retirement... so, I'll be a bit too busy to post this over the next few days. Legacy will continue to be posted at a rate of one new chapter every week to two weeks until we finish with the special just in time for May Day.

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

* * *

Donna walked in, looking him over as he slept. His colour had vastly improved from the first day they had brought him in here. He was no longer ashen, nor deathly pale with the faintly blue lips. She smoothed back his hair and was surprised when his brown eyes opened. She smiled. "Hey Dumbo, how are you feeling?"

"Better," he answered roughly, then cleared his throat. "Still feel tired all the time. Thank your grandfather for me for the clock."

"Thank him yourself," she said. "He's coming with me this afternoon. Had someplace to be this morning but said he'd be here come hell or high water in the afternoon."

"On that... where is here exactly?"

"You didn't know?" she asked.

"No, I don't," he answered.

"UNIT headquarters in London, not the warehouse either, their office and intelligence headquarters. Tower of bloody London, if you believe it."

"Not a hospital?" he asked, bewildered.

He was indeed in the same room.

"Well, it does have a medical suite and lab here," she said. "Xeno-medical, that is, as well as human medical."

"Seemed so modern... thought it must be a hospital."

"Well, where you are has had some refits, Space Boy," she grinned. "But not the rest of the place. It's all on high alert right now. Like they're expecting some sort of invasion while you're off your feet. Something about that being the likely pattern and all. Thought _that _was just a Christmas thing."

"No, seems to follow those times when I need others to run around for me," he grimaced. "Although, was laid up on a Christmas, and the whole world was nearly enslaved had I not recovered fast enough to prevent it."

He yawned and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, she was still there but in a chair reading by the window. "Don't tell me..." he said as he put a hand to his head in frustration.

"Yup, you fell asleep mid conversation on me," she chided gently. "That's okay though, you weren't out long. Just half an hour or so. But at least you're on the mend."

"What if we can't travel anymore?"

Donna was struck speechless, her mouth slightly open in shock. "What?" she finally asked, then brushed that off. "Don't be such a Dumbo! You're tough and you're young." She ignored the snort at that. "Don't be in a rush to get back up, heal up completely... and I mean completely... and enjoy having your feet up for once. Then maybe."

"I saw the chart, Donna," he smiled and cut in gently. "Read it three times. I'm really sorry... I know how much you loved it out there."

For a long moment she was silent, her hands working into jeans tensely before she blew up. "Don't... be... such... a... BLOODY IDIOT!" she finally burst out, and he pushed himself in the bed in the vain effort to get out of the way of the hurricane that was about to hit in the form of Donna. "You're giving up and you haven't even started yet. You haven't even tried!"

He sighed and held up a hand in defeat, and to placate her. "Didn't mean I gave up, Donna."

"Sounded it."

"Listen to me, I read the charts," he said gently. "The damage to my right heart is... well... bad. I also have damage to my left. Stress could literally kill me. Think about that for a long second."

She did and then her eyes widened. "So... it's over now?"

"Didn't say that. Still have the TARDIS..." he trailed off.

"Unless you've got a pocket pilot in those bigger than the inside pockets of that suit, or there's another Time Lord or such hiding in the TARDIS, I don't see how we can travel..." she was equally gentle, but also firm.

"I'm so sorry..." he said quietly.

"Don't be such a dumbo," she suddenly snorted. "Listen to me. Regular broken record. Seriously, though. I'm no pilot of that thing. And... I'm the one that's sorry."

"There's one I didn't check on," he said, blowing out a breath. "My granddaughter - my actual, born from my son who I had with my wife who in turn got married, bonded, himself and had her. She's on Earth. Or she was. Will be. I left her in the 22nd century with a nice bloke by the name of David. They fell in love, got married, had a son of their own the last time I checked."

By this time Donna's eyebrows had risen almost up her forehead. "You have a _what_?" she demanded. "A bloody _grandfather_? Never mind that, a _GREAT_ grandfather? You not feel like telling people this fact... oh... _that's_ what you meant by not as young as you appear."

"Yup," he said, popping the "p" as he usually did. "Surprise! I'm actually old by the standards of my own people. Maybe not in maturity level... they always thought I was half-baked to put it lightly... but definitely in actual years. Don't ask. I can't remember."

"Can't remember what?" she asked, then she laughed. "Oh no way, you can't even remember how old you are? So what, dumbo, you're not really nine hundred and four are you?"

"Not even close. I was at least nine hundred and fifty three in my sixth incarnation. This, before you ask, is my tenth. My seventh and eighth incarnations had... to put it lightly... issues with time lines and such so badly that I was muddled up most of the time in regards to my age. Never bothered to keep track," he admitted. "By the time I cared to it was after the Time War and, for the life of me, I just couldn't remember. I picked a round number and went with it when I reentered life in my ninth. So many lost years."

"How long do your people live?" she asked, then suddenly realized by the sudden surprised look on his face that she had accidentally referred to the Time Lords in the present tense, as if they were still living.

"Well, my wife was over six thousand earth years old. Granted, she was older than me. My mother was approximately four thousand years old, give or take a century or two, when the Time War destroyed them all. She was in the Panopticon trying to reason with Lord President Rassilon when Gallifrey burned," he winced at the thought. "Patience had already been killed in the first battles... oh sorry, Patience was my late wife... and my sons were military. My youngest son died in the first battles, before it was an all out war. The second died on Gallifrey, also in the military but he had long since chosen that life. He was military before I left Gallifrey the first time, with said granddaughter... Susan was Hawke's daughter. I didn't want her to be forced into his idea of a life so when she graduated I... I took her away with me. I'm ashamed to admit that my choices meant that Susan and Hawke never saw each other again. Not even before the war. I couldn't go back to her as the sole survivor... and the destroyer... of not just everything we knew but also our own family. Not after taking her away from it all..."

He fell silent and Donna sat quietly. It was the most he had ever told anyone and she wasn't sure of what to say. She certainly understood his deep aversion to anything military. "But I also had another daughter. Her name was Rylenandrelys, or, as I preferred to call her, Rylen. She was the only one that didn't fall into the military, the only one to survive the longest. But, I'm sure she fell as well... she had been accepted into our senate, our council. I am almost one hundred percent sure that she was also in the Panopticon, helping her grandmother - my mother - in trying to reason with Rassilon before the fall. Rylen was a beauty. Not that Time Ladies weren't all mostly beautiful, but I guess in a father's eyes the most beautiful woman he will lay eyes on other than the mother of said children is his daughter... and Rylen was her father's daughter. Out-spoken, but instead of running like me she chose to work within the system. She had dark, dark hair like my mother and like my hair had been when I was young, and brown eyes like mine. Her mother's creamy complexion. Unlike Patience who was cool and marble like, Rylen was warm, like me... in later years. Her eyes always danced with some hidden mirth. Such a happy child... and I spoiled her... oh how I spoiled her... she was my youngest. My absolute youngest..."

He didn't know what was wrong with him. He was literally spilling his guts on things he would have died before admitting, let alone gone into any great detail over. But Donna was sitting there, encouraging him to continue, soothing him and, as usual with his gob, once on a roll he couldn't help but roll with it. "Rylen was properly bonded to proper Time Lord from a proper House in our Chapter. They never had children - children were rare among our people and treated like rare diamonds. There are myths on how we have children... or not... and we helped create them. The better to protect them with if our enemies don't know where to look exactly... well, it started like that. And then we simply couldn't admit to ourselves that we were the same as all others and needed that contact and bonding to perpetuate our race. How much better for our oh so dusty, musty and dignified legend if even our children were created in an equally controlled and clean manner instead of like every other creature in the universe. We'd kidded ourselves... ha, made a pun there... into literally believing in the Looms that it became taboo to speak of any other way outside of the most private rooms of the House, or the bonded pair's private living quarters in said house. So secret was the truth that even the children, and 'teens' of Time Lord society were raised with the belief that we were all 'Loomed' that when they were finally bonded and the truth came out some wouldn't fully bond with their mates for centuries after, not until the draw to each other was too much to fight. In refusing our 'savage' nature we'd only become more savage in return."

He took a breath and Donna held up a hand to silence him. "Where are you going with this?"

"Susan!" he exclaimed as if it should have been obvious from the very beginning. "If she is still with Alex then she, and he, are safe and... the TARDIS knows her..."

He looked at the clock and realized that they had been talking for nearly an hour. Or rather, he had. The Doctor felt as if his brain had been drawn out through his ears. He'd told her so much, and much of it was painful to even think about. He yawned and Donna patted his shoulder. "Yeah, dumbo, I think you've had enough for a bit. Why not close your eyes for a bit and I'll wake you when my grandfather gets here. Small wonder you two get along. Two old men..."

"Ha..." answered the Doctor drowsily, already dropping off.

Donna watched him as he fell asleep then looked up in surprise from where Martha stood there silently as tears ran down her face. "He's sleeping again," said Donna, completely unnecessarily. "Um, how much of that did you catch?"

"Everything about Rylen on," she answered, wiping the tears away. "He'd never said anything. Not in all the time we traveled... I had to drag anything about Gallifrey from him by force, and then he only gave me an encyclopedic answer. Trees, grass... what it looked like and a bit of the Citadel... but _nothing_ like he just said."

"Is it true?" asked Donna.

"Is what?" asked Martha, confused.

"He said he saw his charts, managed to lift them off of a nurse while they were caring for him last night I guess... and he read them a good three times before they were taken away again," started Donna.

"Oh my God," said Martha, blanching.

"It is. He's... not going to be able to travel anymore?"

"Not like he has been," answered Martha, swallowing. _He knew now_. That changed things. "Not getting into and out of trouble. Even to get up to the point where he will be able to travel short distances will take months, maybe years. He will be weeks in here, and then months with near constant care outside of this infirmary."

They were silent for a moment more and then Donna followed Martha out of the room. "Know which nurse that might have been?" asked Martha.

"The entry from the Doctor said a bit before ten in the evening."

"That would Rory Williams, yes," said Martha. "He's a good nurse... there was no way he could know how fast the Doctor can read, even when a bit out of it. I have a feeling the Doctor wasn't likely as out of it as he was playing at when Rory went in... and he was waiting for the opportunity for someone to slip up long enough for him to get his hands on it."

There was a bit of a laugh at this and even Donna had to agree. It was certainly sneaky... under handed... and something he would so do to get information he felt he wanted. "I'll have a chat with Mr. Williams, but I won't go too hard on him. We didn't warn the nursing staff on just how quick he can be. We'll be fixing that."

* * *

She was waiting for him that night when he came into work. Rory set his stuff down and she waved him off. "No, Mr. Williams, you can get ready as usual. Yes, I do need to talk to you, but it's not anything terrible," Martha assured him.

Rory nodded, went into the changing room and came back out in his uniform and scrubs. "What can I do for you, Dr. Jones? Is his routine changing?"

"Yes, but that's not what I want to talk to you about," she motioned him over to the desk. "I heard that he managed to see his own chart."

"It was only for a second!" Rory exclaimed, surprised.

"Yes, but his reading speed is fast enough that he read it, and memorized it, three times over," pointed out Martha. "Now, it's a bad thing, but also a good thing. Firstly, the patient does have the right to read his own information. It is his. Most don't because they don't know what they're looking at, but he does. So, you're not in trouble for letting him get his hands on it on that technicality, but do be more careful around him. He picks up things quickly and in the span of seconds. Now, the good part about this is that he's accepted his situation and is finally accepting our advice concerning it - by virtue of reading the information for himself. So, on another count... I have to thank you. That likely saved his life."

Rory blinked and felt relief surge through him. "I'm glad about that. I have a wedding to help pay for."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Amy finally agreed to marry me," he said, then something filtered in.

Something they had grown up with. "I have a question about him, if I can be so bold..." he began, and Martha nodded. "Amy and I... well... Amy that is... she grew up with this imaginary friend. Only, I suppose he isn't all that imaginary. Seen too much working for this outfit to dismiss it out of hand... anyway... I was wondering if he can change his appearance somehow?"

"Why would you want to know that?" she asked, very alert all of a sudden.

"Well, you see, when Amy was a kid this man, this 'Doctor' landed in her backyard. She always called him her Raggedy Doctor. She made cartoons of him, dolls... we even pretended... and we were kids at the time and it was her idea really... that the blue shed in her back yard was his ship."

Rory noticed he suddenly had her very rapt attention. "Really?" she asked. "How did she meet him?"

"She was only eight years old. A kid, like I said, and she had this crack in her wall. She said she asked Santa for someone to help and the box just landed on top of the shed in her back yard. She asked him if he was the police, and he asked why she would think that... but it was because his ship said, 'Police Public Call Box', and it was blue... and about the size of a shed... but he came out, having to climb up because it was on its side, all soaking wet... fell into the pool or something like that but the box... well, like I said she was just a kid," explained Rory. "She told him about the crack, and... then... well, he helped her. He fixed the crack but not before he opened it and she said there was some huge eyeball thing inside the wall. Then he used this blue tipped wand thing and closed it again. She, ah... never saw him again."

Martha leaned back. "What did he look like?"

"Young, longish brown hair... kept getting into his face. What was left of a suit, possibly pin stripe but she didn't see a jacket, just blue trousers... light blue dress shirt and a tie. But, he isn't the same man in the bed as now, which is why I asked. Same man or some sort of title," Rory shrugged then. "I wish I could tell her he's around... or someone like him is... but I understand what classified means and I like my job."

With a nod, Martha thought about it. "No, it was the same man, only it sounds like he... the one you see... is an earlier incarnation. Yes, he can change his appearance, but only if dying beyond what he can heal, or if already dead. He can cheat death, but he changes. Completely. And that is between you and me, got it?"

"Understood!" nodded Rory. "So, somehow this man is an earlier version of that man... like he moves backwards or out of order in time... no, don't want to know... anyway... I should start my rounds."

Martha watched him leave thoughtfully. She refused to let that little flutter of hope surge. If what Rory said was true, and he wasn't confusing him with an earlier incarnation, then the Doctor had at least one more left in him. By the description, this Doctor of Amy's was the very next. A crashed TARDIS worried her, however. _What would the Doctor get himself into to cause that_, she wondered.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

The Doctor woke the next day, looked in the planner and read the entries from the night when he was asleep. He had been awake more yesterday than he had been in previous days. And he felt better this morning than he had in previous days since this started. He had been here now for over a week.

Martha came in and opened the curtains, letting the sunlight spill in. "You look so much better than you did when you first came in here. You were almost grey, you were so pale and close to death. How are you feeling?"

"Much better than I have in days," he answered. "I take I'm doing much better?"

"Well, the enzymes are still present in your blood, but you should be fine..." she admitted. "Better than expected really."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing," she checked him over and was satisfied with the much more stable sound of his hearts beating in time... finally. "So much better."

"So, when am I going to be able to get out of this bed?" he asked.

"Well, we're going to upgrade you from ICU to step-down room. You, unfortunately, won't notice that much of a difference. It will still look like an Intensive Care Unit, but, it won't be. You won't have the same amount of nursing and support staff as you don't need them anymore. You'll be moved to a ward, still considered classified and in a secure location. Torchwood will be... don't give me that face," she scolded suddenly, seeing his scowl. "It's led by Jack now... after the fall of Canary Wharf, he was ironically the highest in the command chain. Also, the Queen rescinded the apprehend order after a certain incident with a space cruise liner being stopped from falling on Buckingham Palace... that sound familiar?"

The smile was a sad one, but also amused. "So, I'm no longer public enemy number one, I take it?"

"By far not... you went from being on their hunt list to the same list that UNIT has you on... and now you have two organizations on Earth to back you up, even if Torchwood... thanks to Jack and someone named Tosh... doesn't know what you look like," she took a breath. "However, they regard you like UNIT does... they all want to meet you but dread the day you show up. Except right now. Jack told them all what happened and they're all on pins and needles hoping you pull through."

"Why haven't I seen Jack?" he asked.

"Well, you've been asleep most of the time," she answered. "And UNIT and Torchwood don't exactly see eye to eye on how to handle certain situations. Let's just say Mr. Harkness is known for stepping on UNIT command's toes - and Sir Alistair said, and I quote, 'No matter what they claim, it will be a cold day in hell before Torchwood goes anywhere near the Doctor or gets their slimy hands on his technology!' His exact words too."

The Doctor laughed then, and could see Alistair doing exactly as she claimed. "Anyway, Jack managed to argue his case with the higher ups, and they agreed to at least allow Torchwood to aid them in a small role by sending Dr. Owen Harper, a very respected and skilled doctor in xeno-medicine. And he is good, I've worked with him. However, there is something you should know..." she took a breath. "Owen is a bit strange... he died and... came back only he didn't all the way."

The Doctor lifted a brow. "You mean like Jack... no, not like Jack. All right. Then how?"

"As in he's a walking corpse."

"Oh, now _that_ is just wrong on so many different levels."

"I knew you'd say that," she chortled. "Any ideas?"

"Unfortunately, no," he mused. "I'll have to think on that. If I had access to the TARDIS I'm sure I could come up with something. Maybe. I've never heard of anything like that. You're still it's still _him_?"

"Quite."

"Hmm..."

They were silent for some time after. "Anyway, back to what I was explaining." Martha returned to the subject she was on before she was sidetracked. "We'll move you to a ward, a private hospital in the country. Out of the way. Rory tells me there is a nice one where he comes from, and it's exactly what we're looking for. Of course, you'll need a normal Earth type name."

"John Smith?" he grinned.

"Less normal than that. It's so normal that it raises suspicion," she pointed out.

"Hmm, I once used James McCrimmon," he said. "Among others."

"That might do it," she mused. "How about a mix of both? Jamie Smith..."

"Jamie?"

"You're too young looking to use James, too easy going," she answered. "You fit the image of a Jamie though."

"All right, that works for me."

"Back onto the original subject. You'll still have a private room, but you will not have your own personal support workers, those will be working for the ward and so will have other patients. However, you will still have Rory and Jessica as your personal nurses because they know what you are and who you are. And, of course, you'll now have the four of us as your medical team," she explained. "UNIT and Torchwood will be handling your security. Torchwood because they can be invisible, UNIT because according to official records you are a high priority patient vital to the national security of Great Britain by order of the Queen herself."

"I take that means my every move will be watched."

"From a medical standpoint, yes," she answered. "But while in that room you'll have privacy. No one will look over your shoulder unless you call them or unless you code. In many ways, you'll have more privacy than now... and as you get stronger, more will obviously be returned to you as you're more able to care for yourself."

"Less tubes?"

"Less tubes," she laughed. "Now, if you're still up to it, we can discuss that next step. As you can likely tell, you have a catheter because you aren't strong enough to stand... or at least, you weren't."

"Yes, and it's unpleasant."

"Also you likely noticed the air bed effect? I also trust you know what it's for?"

"Yes and yes," he answered, putting his hands up. "As well as all of this and the nasal cannula. I know how critical and how close to death I was. I know why this is, was... hopefully... necessary."

She nodded and smoothed back the fringe of his hair. "We're going to remove the leg part of that so you can move around on your own, but, when you're sleeping at night they go back on. In the day you'll have a bit of physio to exercise your legs and arms to loosen you up. This will start when we get you to Leadworth."

He listened to all of this and sighed. "Okay."

"When you can show me you're strong enough to move around a bit on your own, with aid, we'll remove the catheter," she said. "However, in Leadworth, we're going to remove one of your IV's. You'll only need the one. Distinct signs of improvement, yeah?"

"Yeah," he answered. "But not as many as I had hoped."

"One step at a time. When you can handle food on your own, we'll move to the next and downgrade you to a normal ward. Still a private room, but out of any sign of ICU. You may not need the nasal cannula or an IV at that point. In fact, you'll probably notice that you won't be connected to anything at all, won't that be nice?" she grinned at seeing the hopeful look in his eyes. "That's what I thought. Now, we won't release you yet. You'll still be really weak likely, and that's normal."

"For a human, maybe..."

"And for Time Lords?"

"Well... all right, I'll concede that."

"Once you're out of the step-down and ICU and into the normal room, you'll be able to go on short excursions within the hospital grounds. As you get stronger... we'll play that by ear. I'm sure eventually you'll be well enough to be released, but promise me you won't go traipsing off in the TARDIS. Even then you won't be strong enough; remember what you read in those charts."

He sighed then and leaned his head back in his pillows. "I remember, and I promise. I don't think she'd let . Likely lock me in my room if I dared think about it... or take me to a hospital to spite me..."

Martha grinned. "Good then, so long as we have that understanding."

* * *

They moved him in the early morning hours while he was still sedated from the night. The early first morning light was just beginning to seep over the horizon but it was still quite dark.

He woke to the noise of the helicopter, but found everything too leaden to move and his tongue felt four sizes too big for his mouth. He saw Harry and Grace, and could dimly hear Martha in the background. The nurse, Rory, was also there. He felt himself being loaded into the helicopter but it was with an odd sensation of disconnection... like he wasn't really there.

Rory and Harry stayed in the helicopter and he blearily looked around. "Go back to sleep," said Rory. "It will be very disorienting for you if you don't. Just close your eyes and go back to sleep."

The Doctor blinked slowly and then sighed, falling back to sleep as the sound of the rotor blades faded into nothing.

* * *

When he woke next he felt as if he had relapsed. He felt terrible and exhausted. When Grace came to check on him, he saw her frown in concern. "Not feeling well, I take it?"

He shook his head, not even able to summon enough energy to talk. "It's okay, go back to sleep then. Rest all you want... that's why you're here..."

He decided to take her advice and did just that. He slept almost the entire day, only waking when someone shifted him or checked on him. He woke one last time to the feeling of someone checking his hearts and his blood pressure and woke to see Rory in the room. "Good evening, Dr. Smith... one last check for the night..."

"Hmmph," he mumbled.

"You woke to go back to bed again, I see," Rory said, smiling. "That's okay. Sleep all you want. The move must have taken a lot out of you. Just rest."

The Doctor closed his eyes and let the nightly sedative do its job and pull him back down into sleep again.

* * *

The next day he woke and saw that it was mid-morning. He checked the planner for entries and noted that at 4:47am he had been moved from London to Leadworth. The trip had taken forty minutes by helicopter and then ten minutes to properly settle him in the cardiac step down unit. He had slept until 11am then for about five minutes, woke feeling horrible. For the entire day, he had then slept fitfully until 9:42pm, when Rory was there, still not feeling much up to talking, and fallen asleep a few minutes later. Each time he had been checked on, he had been sleeping until now...

He looked at the clock, but then realized he didn't have to. He grinned... as tired as he still felt - that move _had_ taken quite a bit out of him - he felt time again. It was 11:34 and 52 seconds, and counting. He also knew what day it was, the month and even the year according to Gallifreyan count and the current Earth calendar.

The Doctor closed his eyes, noting that he actually stayed aware this time, and stretched out his senses to try to touch the TARDIS. It was distant, but he felt the snap of contact as he reached her and then the mental nudge. It was of both vast relief and, paradoxically, of more worry that he had contacted her in the first place while in his condition. The mental chewing out made him smile and he reassured her that he was doing better. Oh sure, he'd had a bit of a relapse, but he was still doing better. He felt her sigh and the soothing waves of reassurance.

He was about to doze off to her voice when he snapped back, noting he'd lost approximately twenty minutes, and gently chided her for trying to put him back to sleep. He'd had enough sleep for now, thank you very much. She laughed and pointed out, quite logically, that if that were true then his body wouldn't still be screaming for it.

She had a point. He pointed out back that if he simply fell asleep the four doctors sent to care for him would likely panic. No, let the healing process progress naturally. Maybe the accelerated healing comas had done a bit more damage than good by force healing him when he'd been injured in the past, as had over-relying on regeneration when he perhaps could have simply healed the long way... as long as it would have taken in the cases where that would have worked. He was shocked at the whole-hearted mental shouted agreement from the TARDIS.

There were a few books now on his table and he picked them up. With a sigh he opened one and began to read. Not his usual speed reading, but a more normal pace. They were there to keep his mind busy and to kill time while he rested, not be instantly devoured.

He was surprised when he woke up later, the book on his chest and the afternoon sun on his feet while Sarah Jane sat there reading another one. "Hey," he greeted.

"Doctor! Oh, you look so much better," she stated immediately. "I would have brought K9 but he would have stood out too much in this place."

"It's okay," he said, then picked up the time. He hadn't been asleep too long, it was only 12:56pm, and he had been reading for nearly an hour when he fell asleep. "Been here long?"

"No," she admitted.

"Didn't think so, I wasn't asleep that long..."

She picked up on that, and the fact that he never consulted the planner or the clock. "You regained your sense of time! Oh, that's a tremendous sign of improvement."

He grinned. "I noticed that this morning."

Grace walked in, saw that he was awake, and opened the curtains. He winced at the sudden brightness but smiled at the view outside. It was a sleepy, old style village. Cleaner than London with trees taller than the buildings instead of the other way around. His view was an unimpeded view of a large, well maintained, park. "That's a lovely view."

"Isn't it though?" she said. "How are you this afternoon? You've been sleeping every time one of us came in to check on you yesterday and this morning."

"Better than yesterday," he answered. "Not as great as I was before being moved."

"We noticed. It will take some time to recover from that, but you're bouncing back quickly. You were completely wiped yesterday. Not even enough energy to talk, let alone hold open your eyes," she told him. "Well, yesterday was a complete bust. Today we'll take out one of the IV's and give you better use of an arm. So, which one do you want back?"

"My right," he answered.

"All right," she said as she moved over to him.

She used her body to block Sarah Jane's view, and Jessica, his other nurse came in and assisted. Moments later, the IV was out and he was bandaged up. Jessica held the bandage on his arm as Grace checked him over and updated his charts. "Next, let's ditch that catheter..." said Grace with a smile.

"Oh thank Rassilon..."

"Ms. Smith, could you step outside for a second... this is something that should be done in private..."

He felt his hearts drop clear through the floor. "As in now?"

"Well, yes, unless you want to keep it?" asked Grace in confusion.

"Well, no, but..." And he blushed a deep crimson.

Her eyebrows raised and her mouth formed the shape of an understanding "oh" as she suddenly caught what his issue was. "Doctor, there's no need to be embarrassed and I swear I'll be quick and steady about it. Now, close your eyes... trust me, you don't want to see this," she smiled as she drew back the sheets.

He did as she asked, and even turned his head. Jessica even laid a cloth over his eyes. "All right, I'm done," said Grace and he looked up in surprise as she covered him back up again.

"That was quick," he said, shaken.

"We're professionals here," she chuckled, as she cleaned up. "All right, we'll get rid of this now as well... "

With great relief, the air leg massage devices came off and he felt their absence like freeing... he didn't know what but it felt so good to have just legs under that blanket... to be able to move around again without the lower half of him tied down and attached to tubing. "How does that feel?" she asked.

"So much better," he said with great relief. "I can move my legs again."

"Good, good," she said. "If you need anything, and you know what I mean... no more catheter but you still need support to get to the bathroom... so if you should feel the need use the call button. Jessica will come running with a PSW to help you get there. The rest is now back being up to you."

"Thank Rassilon," he said again, rubbing his hand over his face.

Grace then moved the oxygen monitor from his right index finger to his left. "There... now you have full use of your right hand. You have no idea how great it is to see you attached to only half of what you were before."

"You have no idea how good it feels to be only attached to half of what I was before," he pointed out in return, then he yawned. "Oh drat."

"It's been a trying few days, and now you have one more change for your body to adjust to. It's okay," she laughed. "You rest. Jessica will wake you when it's time for supper. Ms. Smith, we're done in here so it's okay to come back in... but I'm afraid he's falling back to sleep..."

The rest was lost, reduced to a murmur as he drifted. He wasn't quite asleep yet. The TARDIS was still communicating to him, and he felt her touch his mind gently, just enough to tip him over the edge into real sleep.

Sarah Jane watched him sleep, and covered him with the blanket. As she smoothed it over the edge of his shoulders, tucking him in, she inspected his face. He desperately needed a shave. The stubble was going from shadow to short beard very quickly. It was a good thing she had a set of shavers, borrowed from Harry, for just this very thing. She could have gone to the TARDIS but it was still in London, safely tucked away at UNIT headquarters.

The full brunt of just how close he had come to death hit her again and her hands trembled where they lingered on his blanket. She finished smoothing it out and wiped away tears. Martha came in and put a hand on her shoulder. "He's fine," she whispered. "He'll be fine."

She drew Sarah Jane off to the side, then out of the room where she closed the door. "How is he really?" asked Sarah Jane, as Donna came up beside her, holding her arm.

Martha smile widely. "Better than we expected, actually... Rory gave me an interesting tidbit of information without actually meaning to... or knowing the full meaning. Evidently his fiancee had this not so imaginary 'imaginary' friend she called the raggedy Doctor. He traveled in a blue box that said "Police" on it. She always said he was real, and that he fixed the crack in her wall when she was eight... right here in this very village."

"So he's been here before?" asked Donna.

"No... Rory, said he didn't look like this Doctor... but, because he was there when we brought him in and when we transferred him, Rory saw the Doctor's clothes and said the Raggedy Doctor of Amy's wore the same... only, as the name suggests, they were always half on him because they didn't quite _fit_ him, as if they were not _his_ clothes... and he was always younger, with longer hair, more browner hair," explained Martha with a grin. "You know what that tells me, despite the tests and his agreement that he likely 'can't' regenerate again?"

"He can," realized Sarah Jane.

Martha nodded, and Donna made the connection. "Then he gets better? As in much better than this? Strong enough to... regenerate...?"

"And, from the look of his ship and clothes, from Amy's story, get into trouble enough that the regeneration wasn't caused by illness... which means..." explained Martha. "He actually recovers. That's the best news I've heard and it came from my top nurse. From what I understand, when time is rewritten, the past changes to reflect it."

"Because it never happens," Sarah Jane agreed. "You're right."

"Now, considering the detail of Amy's Doctor..." Donna thought a moment, then added, "... damn... whatever is supposed to happen still will. However, he said he can't travel. Even he understood that from the charts... but the past... his future... hasn't changed."

"Maybe it hasn't, even with this," pointed out Sarah Jane. "Maybe, he does retire... stop traveling... but, as we know, things happen and sometimes he gets involved. Maybe something dire happens in our future, in his future, in linear time and in aiding the world, he gets blown around back to Amy's past, and somehow, in between regenerates. Trouble in the future, however far in the future, means little. It comes to Earth too..."

"It's still encouraging to know he's going to be around for awhile longer," said Donna, smiling, as they looked in him as he slept peacefully unaware of their conference.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

Despite the 'conference' by the Companions of the Doctor, the TARDIS knew that with his sudden decline in health, things had suddenly changed. Certain things would not come to pass. She was a being, a ship, of the Time Vortex. As the Bad Wolf had said, "I see all of time itself," so she did, and she saw the flexible time line shift and change.

The hand bubbled beside her console and she knew that it would play a part in the future to restore the original, true time line.

But, certain things happened that weren't quite meant to the way they did.

In the Library, Professor River Song got the Doctor she was expecting, her Doctor. While the TARDIS didn't know which exactly he was, she was aware of that timeline slipping away from theirs as it snapped to his. Donna would never get to see it. Never get to meet Lee or have the illusionary life. Actually, no one of the Doctor's acquaintance would as he wasn't exactly traveling with anyone at the time... just River who never quite traveled with him permanently.

That was the only glimpse the current TARDIS saw before that timeline slipped away and her sight of it was gone. What could have been remained in her memory banks, but she erased it. No point in keeping it nor worrying about it.

As time slid by while he recovered, another point ceased. The Doctor was released and transferred into a private room, but normal, non-critical, care ward. He was still so very weak and needed constant care, however, but she was elated to feel his relief at being in a room that at least looked more like a normal bed room, except for a few easily ignored 'hospital' bits and the obvious bed, as generous as it was as a full twin size bed instead of the thinner single bed meant more as a fancy gurney than a bed.

There _was_ a Time Lord on that bus in the deadly light of Midnight, but not the Doctor. Things happened as they ought on the bus, only with this particular Time Lord things were sorted without a Time Lord being nearly thrown into the deadly sunlight - mostly because he hated others knowing he was a Time Lord unless it was other Time Lords. And sometimes he preferred avoiding those as well as he had little use for his brethren... even if he had... in the past... worked for them.

However, in learning that the missing moon of Poosh was missing, _vanished_, with no explanation got that Time Lord thinking. It wasn't something he usually thought about it. It wasn't that he cared one way or the other about the moon, or any inhabitants if there even were any... but because something in his senses told him he should. Something was pulling on Time Lines and being a "Time Lord" meant it was his business.

With a sigh, he turned his senses and felt the tug to a time and place where the next disappearance would be.

Naturally it would _have_ to be Earth.

* * *

The Doctor yawned and looked out the window over the pond and to the sleepy downtown of Leadworth. He put his book down and sensed with a gasp as something in the time line snapped like an elastic pulled too tight and then allowed to relax suddenly as what held the tension vanished.

He reached out to the TARDIS and she assured him she had felt it too, as well as others he had missed. Flexible points, those, not fixed and so not overly important in the grand scheme of things. However, this one was Fixed and it was dangerously close to being Broken. He blinked, trying to get a read on it.

Donna and he were supposed to go somewhere, somewhere to relax... supposedly... How that was a Fixed Point was beyond him, but all right... and he knew where and what time. Shan Shen. He grinned. He hadn't been there in a long time. The Doctor was only a little worried that for some reason he had to go there, and he had to take Donna with him.

As he tried to work out why and how he was hardly aware when someone came into the room and tried to get his attention.

For the young nurse, seeing Dr. Jamie Smith in something that could only be described as catatonia - even though she knew he wasn't altogether human and therefore some things would not apply as alarming - sent chills up her spine as the worst ran through her mind. He'd had a heart attack, why not a stroke too?

But he appeared to be aware, and there was no apparent signs of weakness or favouring either of side. It was as if his attention was simply somewhere else. "Doctor?" she asked, uncertainly.

His attention snapped back and their eyes locked. It became readily apparent that it hadn't been catatonia, but something else. His awareness, his very sharp and powerful awareness, had simply been seeing something else, somewhere else... maybe even... no... not possible.

"Entirely possible," he answered and she was sure she hadn't spoken aloud. "You didn't. You think so loud, so don't worry, I wasn't reading your mind either. Just hearing what you were shouting."

Jessica bolted from the room.

Not even five minutes later his four doctors, three of them amused as they knew exactly what he was capable of - especially when contemplating Time Lines - and how tetchy he could be when interrupted from that. The fourth was... _oh Rassilon_. And he thought _Jack_ was wrong on his eyes. At least he was vaguely annoying like an itch between shoulder blades, one that a person just couldn't reach but could shove out of the mind if distracted enough. That... that was something else entirely and it took everything in his power not to be revolted.

Well, he couldn't say Martha _didn't_ warn him about Dr. Owen Harper. "Doctor, this is Dr. Owen Harper, a xeno-medical expert from Torchwood Three," introduced Martha. "Owen, this is the Doctor."

Owen only nodded, and the Doctor nodded back. He caught Martha's knowing look as she looked from one to the other. "So, what were you doing that freaked out the nurse so much?" asked Owen without any preamble.

"Difficult to explain, that," admitted the Doctor. "But I'll try. I'm a Time Lord, which means I am connected to Time itself. All that was, is, will be and could be... and before you ask, yes, it's sometimes maddening to be aware of all that but my race was trained and, ah, specially born to that purpose. I was... looking at a dangerous close to breaking Fixed Point and trying to unravel where and when something is supposed to happen to make sure that it does, as for some reason, I appear to be needed there."

"I suddenly have an understanding of why you had a heart attack," said Owen. "Why not let another Time Lord do it instead of taking it all on yourself?"

Martha sucked in a breath, and she looked to the others and saw the same question in their eyes. They didn't know either. She looked at the Doctor, compassion in her eyes. He looked up with understanding, nodded, and then sighed. "Because there aren't any others left. I'm the _last_," he answered honestly, if a bit sadly. "My home planet is gone, burned and now nothing but space dust in the orbit where it used to be when our sun expanded to swallow it and burn all the life on it. I've been left to carry the legacy and the burden. And, as it's become rapidly apparent, I am getting a bit too old to do it myself now. After me, there are no others."

"_What?_" came from both Grace and Harry, and Grace finished, "Since when?"

"There was a war. The Time Lords lost, but in so doing took out the other side as well. Completely. And in one fell swoop everything changed," he answered sadly. "The sun didn't just expand on its own, a weapon was used to make it expand. It swallowed the second sun, forcing it to go supernova. And, in that, everything was destroyed in a matter of nanoseconds. I was there... thought I was dead with the rest of my race but... my TARDIS, and me on board, escaped. I woke up on Earth... knowing and sensing the sudden hole, the sudden silence, and when I went back... there was nothing left but for a single sun, but with nothing around it but space dust and debris. Been running for lack of anything else better to do, wandering, for the better part of... well... lost count really. I'm guessing nine hundred years... maybe more... maybe less. To tell the truth I don't even know how old I am anymore."

Grace hugged him then, tears running down her face at the depressed and quiet monotone he had fallen into near the end. Even Martha had to wipe tears from her eyes. Harry looked nauseated, not from the emotion or the display of it, but from the same thing that was in the pit of all of their stomachs. The sheer scale of how many had died to render an entire species extinct, but for one lonely reminder, made them ill. Even Owen looked uncomfortable and there was a hidden emotion in his dark eyes, one that softened the hard edges around his eyes. He could be a prick sometimes, Martha knew, but even he had been affected by this. Owen cleared his throat, an unnecessary device for him considering he had nothing to really have to clear, but more to break the silence. "As I said, I suddenly understand why you had a heart attack," he said, a bit more understanding, less caustic than the first time he had said, perhaps even with a slight tinge of extremely well hidden sympathy. "That kind of stress isn't good for a human, let alone the loneliness or possible age, as well as signs of previous damage to that very heart. If you'll excuse me, I think I'm going read up on anything that might help in your case and come up with a viable regimen that will speed your recovery, as well as make sure it hopefully doesn't happen again."

Owen then excused himself and left. Martha had no doubts he had gone to do as he claimed, but she also knew that he wasn't the unfeeling bastard he portrayed himself to be. He just wasn't comfortable with that sympathetic part of himself that was coming to the fore and went to deal with it the best he knew how... which was a direct 'fix the problem' approach.

Harry and Martha left together, letting Grace try to snap the Doctor out of the dark mood he had suddenly fallen into. Martha had seen it before. Happened every time Gallifrey or Rose was brought up, even obliquely. Thankfully that can of worms hadn't been opened yet or she had a feeling he'd be inconsolable. As far as he still knew, his wandering days were done, and the subject of Gallifrey had been brought up so many times that his usual manic self was all but emotionally beaten out of him, turning him somber and quietly introspective. He wasn't depressed, yet, not quite. He was just showing a more serious and mature side of himself.

She crossed her fingers that no one mentioned Rose, or that maybe the loss of Rose was far enough back that he'd healed a bit more.

* * *

The Doctor held Grace as she cried. He knew she wasn't crying for the loss - how could she? The only other Time Lord she'd ever met was the Master... and, _no_, he wasn't going _there_. She was crying for him because he wasn't. She gained control of herself quickly and hugged him again as he sat on the edge of his bed and they sat there for awhile. Grace looked at him, noting the lines around his eyes and the difference between the eyes she remembered from San Francisco and now, changes that went far beyond colour.

He'd always been quiet and introspective, or so she remembered of the not quite middle aged man with longer, softer blonde hair and blue eyes... the one that suited his Edwardian style. She'd seen this one's very modern suit and converse shoes before she had ever met him and couldn't believe he had changed so much that he'd wear it. Of course, once she had seen the size of it she had also taken a double take.

And then she seen him, even treated him and aided in his treatment while he floated between life and a death that would have been very final. The Doctor had looked so frail lying helpless beneath the life support. His skin had been almost translucent he had been so pale and ashen.

He looked so much better even if he was still pale and still looked worn out and exhausted, and the fact that he was now out of ICU and in a normal ward in a private room... and even sitting under his own power on the side of the bed... was such a step forward. He still had a lot of healing and rest in front of him, but for now this was encouraging.

"So, what did you see when you scared Jessica?" asked Grace finally, knowing that he had been seeing something in the flow of time.

He took a sharp breath. "There is a fixed point, as I said, in danger of breaking. The whole reason is that for some reason it is someplace, some when, that Donna and I have to be. Not anyone else. I know where... I was trying to figure out when, and maybe why." He ran a hand over his eyes and forehead, almost as if trying to rub away a head ache. "I can't... find the why. At all. It's as if I'm forbidden to know but I've not seen anything like that in a really long time. Before the war, in fact. I was just narrowing down the when..."

"Do you want to have a rest and then have another go?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I could do. But I don't feel up to sleeping right now. I'm starting to get tired of the same four walls. What I could do with is a walk, even if its not far, maybe some fresh air and actual sun."

Grace smiled and said, "Not a walk, you'd not get far before we'd have to retrieve you. But, if you can handle a wheelchair."

"Aw, no, Grace... I really..."

"If you can live with it, I can take you outside. It's a longer walk than you think. You're at the end of the hall where it's private and if we use the fire escape doors, the alarm will go off. Only way in or out of here is at the elevators and at the main doors," she explained. "You would have to walk all the way to the end where the nurse's station is, then wait for the elevator, ride the elevator, have your walk outside, then make it back."

For a long moment he almost appeared like he was going to argue. Then the Doctor blew out a long breath through his lips and sighed. "Fine... I guess I have to accept your terms or be stuck here."

"Oh, definitely."

She got up, patted his leg and left for a moment, seeing the others in the hall. "He'd like to go outside for a bit, get some fresh air and some sun. I think it might do some good. There is, however, something that concerns me."

"Oh?" asked Harry.

"He is utterly convinced that he and Donna must be somewhere, soon, or a Fixed Point will break. It must be him and Donna... and it isn't on Earth. Which means he intends to _leave_," she stressed the last word. "And soon. Anyway, I'd better find him a comfortable wheelchair or he'll rebel on me again. He was bound and determined to walk but I convinced him the length of the walk to just get outside would be too much for him at this point."

Harry and Martha looked at each other. "That's not good."

Martha shook her head, but she was in complete agreement. "He can't go yet, not in his condition. It's way too soon. He'll land himself right back in that bed if he does. But at the same time I know how important he be there... where ever it is."

Harry sighed as Grace came back with the empty chair and a PSW pushing it.. She had held true to her word and not taken from the front doors where the chairs were in less than perfect condition. Likely she had held it someplace for use in specific to him. The two came back out and less than impressed Doctor was in it. Martha smiled when she saw him, and he was still insisting that he didn't need it.

He looked strange in it, and not just because he was in the chair in the first place. While it was a normal sized chair, it was clear that either he was too long limbed for it, or it was just a bit too small. The PSW pushed it down the hall with Grace leading it, arguing the entire way. Only when the elevator came, and he was pushed onto it and those doors close did the protesting voice stop, but only because the doors shut them off from the rest of the hall.

Martha looked at Harry and he began to laugh. "Oh, I missed him," he said with a smile.

* * *

"Are you sure it has to be you?" she asked.

"Well, I know it has to be Donna, and I can't think of another way to get to 49th century Shan Shen unless by TARDIS," he pointed out.

"You have a point."

The PSW was at the door and it was just Grace and the Doctor as she helped him walk a few steps in the gardens outside. "When will you have to go?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. Considering we are talking of time travel, it could be now, could be later, but I feel as if something is speeding on its way here and if I fail to do this, something will not happen as it should," he answered. "So soon. Otherwise I wouldn't have sensed it as strongly as I did."

"No offense, but that sucks," she said plainly.

He laughed, but it was a quiet and controlled laugh. There was a sadness to it. "Grace, I know I come back. I can't explain it, but I know that I do," he answered. "Donna and I will have to leave... and soon."

"What if you took others with you?" she asked. "Someone to help you pilot the TARDIS, and take care of you in case you begin to not feel well. You're still recovering and will have those days where you won't."

He thought about it. "I suppose I do owe you one trip. And Shan Shen is a lot like Chinatown. Only bigger... as in the entire planet. Although I saw the marketplace area, the less public one. Could be interesting."

"One more reason to not just take Donna with you."

"I'll think about it and give you an answer before we leave," he said.

She shook her head. "Not good enough, Doctor. I've read all about you in the UNIT files. A non-committal answer is usually the only hint you give before pulling a vanishing act. You never say no, you just disappear - and this time I'm not letting you away with it. Not this time..." he opened his mouth to protest, "... and you know damn well why."

"Fine, fine," he finally conceded. "All right, I'll take Jack with me. He's piloted the TARDIS before. Mind you not alone, and... since I do owe you a trip and you have piloted the TARDIS... and you're a medical professional that is familiar with me, and as you said... I may have a bad spell where I need care... so why don't you come as well?"

Her eyebrows rose and she felt her heart soar. Here was the chance she had turned down years ago for favour of her career, and now, for the same career, the chance was before her again. Grace Holloway was many things, but a fool she wasn't. "I'd love to."

"But?" he frowned, thinking her about to refuse him... again.

"No buts, silly, I'm coming with you."

He smiled then, a very real one. For that shining moment she saw in the new face her old Doctor, so similar was the smile. All he needed now was the velvet coat and the long wispy hair.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

The Doctor was almost asleep by the time his PSW pushed his wheelchair back into the room. He had spent most of the afternoon in the gardens with Grace, sleeping in the grass sometimes but usually walking and enjoying the feel of the sun on his face. When it was time for dinner, he was tired enough to not even fight with Grace about getting into the chair or being pushed back to his room.

He tiredly moved from the chair to the bed and eyed the covered tray on the table. "Hospital food," he muttered.

"Better than no food at all," came Jack Harkness' voice from behind him.

Grace was about to scold the man from Torchwood for startling the Doctor, but she was surprised by his hand on her arm and the amusement in the brown eyes. The Doctor had not been surprised nor startled, it was if he had known Jack was there. "I was wondering when I was going to see you," he simply said as he eased himself down into the bed, although the back of it was up so he was mostly sitting anyway.

"Yeah." Jack scratched the back of his head. "Well, with the uproar your collapse caused, I've been busy liaising between Torchwood and UNIT with Sir Alistair as a 'civilian' liaison for UNIT while I'm representing Torchwood. Civilian my ass. No one warned me he was the retired, and not very retired mind you, Brigidier-General Alistair Lethbridge-Steward of UNIT itself, responsible for its very inception... and your former co-worker and possible commanding officer while at UNIT. No, no, thanks for the warning and all... appreciate that."

By the end the Doctor was grinning. "Sorry... I had, ah... it slipped my mind considering all that happened on the _Valiant_ and everything. Would have have told you otherwise. And then you went back too quickly. It just didn't come up again and I forgot. So, what's for dinner tonight?"

He lifted the lid and looked at the various dishes on the tray. If it was supposed to be food, they had failed. He sighed and looked at Grace. "You know perfectly well it's what you can handle."

"I thought I was on the mend..." he complained, half-heartedly.

"You are," she answered matter of factly. "But don't expect a sudden change to your usual... whatever it is..."

"Chips," answered Jack, looking around the room.

The Doctor sucked in his lips, almost in embarrassment as Grace looked from one to the other. "Chips? As in potato chips out the bag?" she asked.

"No, as in what you Americans call 'fries'," answered the Doctor. "Only more homemade, I suppose."

"Well, no wonder you had a heart attack if that's all you eat, skinny or not, your cholesterol must have been through the roof... maybe even the stratosphere. Especially given your lifestyle!" exclaimed Grace. "For the love of God, Doctor..."

The Doctor held up his hand to forestall any further ranting from Grace, which was increasing in volume and emotion the more she continued. He was also glaring at Jack for letting that little fact slip. "I haven't even eaten them in... oh... years now. Only with-" The Doctor swallowed suddenly, then took a bite of something and a sip of tea, and only sighed. "At least the tea is passable."

"With who?" asked Grace, puzzled but she saw Jack shaking his head and she let it drop.

For now.

"So, Doctor, any idea when he can go home?" asked Jack.

"I don't know," answered the Doctor.

"I was actually talking to your doctor, Doctor," Jack retorted, a note of teasing peevishness in his voice. "So?"

"Well, he is on the mend," she answered. "If he behaves..." She ignored the '_Who, me?_' look from the Doctor. "... I imagine he will continue to recover at a incremental pace like he has been."

"And?" asked Jack.

Grace didn't answer.

"Yeah, I'd like to know the answer to that as well," came the Doctor's voice. "Considering this is me we're talking about here." Grace sat down and gave the Doctor a level stare. "I don't like the look of that."

"Yeah, maybe I'm going to step out for a minute here, let you two discuss something about the can of worms I think I just opened here," said Jack as he gave a half salute and did as he said he was. "Just going to find a cup of whatever passes for coffee..."

"Jack... don't, I already know I... damn..." the Doctor said, looking at his food, feeling his already shaky appetite slip away, although he sipped at his tea.

"What am I missing here?" asked Jack and he caught the look from Grace and the brood on the alien. "Oh shit. That bad, eh? But he will get out of here eventually, though, right? What about picking up some consultation work to keep busy? Can't be all that bad to live on Earth with friends, can it?"

The Doctor perked up a bit at this. "You have a point."

"Damn straight I do," said Jack, sitting down. "Are you going to eat that?"

"Should I eat it or did I already?" asked the Doctor critically, poking at the food on his place.

Grace threw her hands up in the air. "Oh, let's not start this again."

* * *

The TARDIS settled with a whisper, and then, with the same whisper, took the form of a plinth in the... the Time Lord looked around. Plas. It was called the Plas. He was in Cardiff. He looked around, then back to the hidden TARDIS which mimicked the other plinths in the Plas so perfectly it looked like it had always been there. With a satisfied nod, he stepped out completely and locked it. He tucked the key in an inside pocket, next to his own sonic device and walked around.

Moments later, he noticed a few people milling about the Plas that hadn't been there before, running around with technology. He watched them in amusement, then the amusement slid away when he overheard their conversation and realized he had been detected and that a Hub of something called Torchwood lay below his very feet. With a sigh, he faded back to a cafe and let his sensitive hearing fill in the blanks.

"What do you mean, you can't find anything?" came a voice over the speaker of the communication device, a woman by the sounds of it.

"Tosh, there is nothing here. And I mean nothing. Nothing is out of place, no aliens, no debris... not one thing..." said the well dressed man in the dark suit.

"Should we recall Jack and Owen?"

"No, if there's nothing to report, there's nothing to report. And he's not going to be happy with us if he's pulled away from that other alien's deathbed and he misses his chance to say good-bye to his friend," answered the man with a sigh as he put away the scanner. "And I wouldn't blame him."

The Time Lord quirked a brow. Alien hunting organization with one of their higher-ups a friend of an alien, who was on his deathbed. Interesting.

"Have you heard from Jack?" asked Tosh.

It wasn't as if their conversation was easy to overhear, they were speaking softly. It was just that his hearing was that sensitive and focused on them.

"He says the Doctor is doing better, but his traveling days are done. He's going to see if he'll live with consulting, if he recovers. As I said, the alien could very well be on his deathbed and wasn't doing well the last time Jack was in to see him," answered the other man as he walked back to where ever he had been.

The Time Lord felt his two hearts drop into his shoes as it suddenly slammed into place, choking on his coffee and spluttering as he did so. That had the effect of attracting the other man's attention as he walked by him, causing him to stop dead in his tracks and narrow his eyes at him. The human and the Gallifreyan stared at each other for a long time before the Time Lord took the man by his elbow and out of earshot. "Now, tell me young man... about this Doctor that is on his deathbed."

The other man's eyes thinned. "You didn't hear anything."

"But I did. You're looking for alien activity, are you not?" asked the Time Lord as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his key.

Unlike the keys to the Doctor's TARDIS, his looked Gallifreyan. The other man's eyes widened. "Come with me," he ordered tersely.

"Only because you've asked and I've volunteered the information, you understand," said the Time Lord. "Because, much as I loathe to admit it, I have a personal stake in the Doctor and his... he's... he's not is he?"

The other man had the grace to look at least semi-sympathetic at the sudden change in tone in the other man's voice, of the concern. "We don't know. But, last we heard he wasn't doing well at all."

"What happened to him?" asked the Time Lord softly.

"Heart attack, right-sided."

The Time Lord closed his eyes. Double damn. Not something a Time Lord could regenerate out of either. How well he knew it - it was... _had been_... a common cause of death on Gallifrey. "And his left?" asked the Time Lord.

The other man's eyes thinned. "How much do you know of this particular... alien's... physiology."

The Time Lord smiled. "It's my own physiology. The Doctor and I share the same home world, the same heritage. I am thinking that perhaps I can help."

The other man stopped dead in his tracks and stared at him. "You're a Time Lord?" he asked in shock.

"Indeed I am," answered the Time Lord, putting a hand to the centre of his own chest. "Forgive me, I am known as Irving Braxiatel, of the House of Lungbarrow and the Prydonian Chapter of the Council of Time Lords... when there was a Council of Time Lords."

For a long moment the other man was silent in shock, and then he held out his hand. Irving took it and shook it before they mutually dropped hands. "Ianto Jones, administrative manager of Torchwood Three. The other on the phone was Toshiko Sato, xeno-technology specialist. Normally there are three others - Jack Harkness who is our nominal Director and field supervisor, Gwen who is field support and investigative, and Dr. Owen Harper who is our xeno-medical expert, and paramedic when we need one. Gwen is here, you'll meet her in a few moments. Jack and Owen are with the Doctor as Owen was called there due to his specialty in the hopes of helping him."

This was given in a matter of fact, professional and even tone. Braxiatel wondered if he told the time in the same even tone, but he could respect that. Even like it. The cog wheel door cycled open and they walked in and Braxiatel looked around as he walked in, aware of the two women regarding him in barely restrained shock. "Ianto, what the hell...?" asked the Welshwoman, Gwen, he gathered.

"Short explanation, he is the disturbance you sent me to investigate," answered Ianto with a shrug. "And he found me after overhearing everything on our communication devices from across the Plas."

"Sir, could you explain?" asked Tosh.

"One, I'm not human and the disturbance wasn't me but my ship. It's called a TARDIS, by the way. Two, I have a name and it is Irving Braxiatel. Irving to friends, of which I have none that still live unless you count my brother... who is wherever your Jack Harkness and Owen Harper are. Speaking of which... now that I've cleared that up, where is my brother the Doctor and how would I go about seeing him myself?" asked Braxiatel.

For a long moment everyone was speechless. "Don't everyone talk at once," he supplied. "I'm thinking I might be able to help, if that's what you need."

"What? Yes, of course!" exclaimed Gwen. "Uh, I'll have to call Jack."

"You do that," said Braxiatel as he spotted a comfortable looking couch and walked up to it, then sat on it, one leg crossed over the other as he picked up a magazine... and then promptly discarded it with reddening ears at what he saw... and opted for the daily newspaper instead as safer reading material. "Meanwhile, could I bother you for a cup of tea?"

* * *

Jack stood silently, absolutely still as he listened to Gwen on the other end of the phone. Martha, Grace and Donna, as well as Owen and Harry, watched his face pale until it could have matched the white walls of the hospital. "And you're quite certain he stated that?" asked Jack finally.

There was a pause. "And that was his exact wording?"

Another pause. "What is he doing now?" asked Jack, then Jack grinned, although it was humourless. "Considering what he told you I'm not surprised by that... sounds like his... okay, I'm not believing his story until I can confirm it." There was another pause. "Yeah, I know that's going to be the only way to confirm it and he's going to go ballistic. Just nuts. He's not going to believe it either. Tell this... what did you say his name was again? Irving Braxiatel. Tell Mr. Braxiatel that, and I hope he understands this, that in the best interests of his brother's continued health... and we'd like to see it stay improving... that until I can confirm that he even had a brother named that, or went by that name that you cannot disclose his location. For his own safety. If this Braxiatel is truly the Doctor's brother." Jack openly scoffed. "Then he'll understand that. And ask to listen to his two hearts. While it won't confirm 'brotherhood' it will confirm he's at least a Time Lord... he showed you his _what?_"

Jack listened in silence, but the other five had gone slack mouthed and pale in shock at hearing at least Jack's side of the conversation. "Okay, that proves he's got his own TARDIS and can fly it at least. But it doesn't prove his identity." Pause again. "What you mean he can hear us? Mr. Braxiatel, I'm honoured to meet you by phone."

The other five listened in silence as Jack paced while listening. It seemed like what this Braxiatel was saying was making sense to Jack as he'd nod every once and awhile. "Look, I get what you're saying, but... next question... how are you getting here even if you know where..."

There was a slight whispering sound, then the wind picked up in the break room as the whispering sound grew to an almost recognizable whooshing sound that rose and fell in an all too familiar cadence before settling.

For a long moment they saw nothing, then out of the very wall a man stepped out, brushing off his suit as an equally astonished Gwen stepped out with him. "Jack?" she asked in shock, before looking at the wall, then to Braxiatel, and back to Jack again. "Remarkable."

The Time Lord only smiled cooly. "Was that a suitable demonstration, Mr. Harkness?" asked Braxiatel. "Now, may I please see my brother?"

Jack hung up the phone in astonishment, and pointed in wordless shock to Harry. Harry nodded and stepped forward to shake Braxiatel's hand. Once the handshake broke off and Harry explained, "He's doing much better than he had been when we first brought him in here. But he's not out of the woods yet."

"But not on his deathbed, as Mr. Jones explained?" asked Braxiatel, and only a slight softening around the creased eyes showed the relief the Time Lord felt.

"Ah, no," answered Grace. "But we suspect he has no more regenerations left due to this, and he's still very ill and weak."

Braxiatel nodded, and then followed them as they led him up the stairs to the floor. The UNIT soldiers stationed outside his door straightened as Harry nodded to them. "Give me a moment, he may be sleeping."

Braxiatel shook his head, with a slight smile. "I know he is, I can sense the disjointed and unconscious thoughts from his subconscious while he dreams. He's not consciously aware that I'm here but as I grow closer to him, he's becoming aware of it. If I enter now, he'll wake up and... may I see his charts?"

Harry walked in quietly and then came back out with the clipboard. Braxiatel took them and then sat in a chair in the hallway, reading them over. He looked up again. "Where did you get knowledge of Gallifreyan medicine?"

"His TARDIS translated some of the medical manuals she felt we'd need," answered Martha. "We couldn't formulate everything exactly, but using the chemical composition strings we were able to synthesize them, as well was use the information on what not to give him. It also suggested therapy to help rehabilitate him to the best his body will allow."

Braxiatel nodded. "I don't say this often, if at all, but I am impressed that such a primitive world could take what little information you have gleaned and used it as well as an elder civilization's medical experts would have."

"Thanks, I think," answered Martha, rolling her eyes and looking at the others in amusement.

"I think, perhaps, it would be best to let my brother rest for now," said Braxiatel as he stood up and handed the charts back over to Harry. "I will stay here until I sense his waking and then I'll go in and see him. I won't disturb him until then."

There was a few moments of uncomfortable silence, and Jack was about to leave when he heard from the other Time Lord, "What the hell happened that makes it hurt to look at the... well, the both of you?"

He pointed from Jack to Owen and back again. "One is a tangled mess and the other... egh... I won't go there."


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

The Doctor yawned and rolled over, looking out the window. The TARDIS was... that was unusual... she was almost jittery, excited... he opened his eyes more and saw the man sitting by the window. "I was wondering when you would wake up."

He could only stare in disbelief. "What?"

"Is that all you have to say?"

"What?"

"And you used to be so articulate. You disappoint me."

"What?" exclaimed the Doctor finally. "How?"

Braxiatel put a hand to his forehead in exasperation. "Surely this incarnation of you is capable of far more than one word exclamations."

"I am, but... and this doesn't happen often... sometimes I get a bit shocked into near silence," responded the Doctor. "Rassilon's breath, am I hallucinating this?"

"No, you're not," answered Braxiatel. "And before you launch into 'but I would have known... I would have sensed...' diatribe or the 'I'm the Last of the Time Lords' deal, as evidently you like to do according to your primitive friends, no, you wouldn't have sensed another Time Lord. Much was destroyed when Gallifrey fell, as was our ability to sense each other anywhen, anywhere from anywhere and anywhen. Only when we are in the same era, time and relative area of space can we now know there's another of us about... and then, unless we're right on top of each other, so to speak, there has to be a bond of some sort. In our case, blood relation. And you could have checked for yourself but you did not. Curious. It's not like I've not made myself easy to find." Actually, quite the opposite if you remember my collection and estate, which, as you'll remember, was no where close to Gallifrey or its territories. Like I preferred it."

"You haven't changed a bit."

"Why should I? You, however, have I can tell. You're not so... as much as you seem it on the outside... so keen on the universe as you used to be." Braxiatel leaned back in the uncomfortable chair. "But yet you still carry on, same as you ever did."

"Why are you here?" asked the Doctor in a whisper.

"I sensed a convergence in the Time Lines. I, too, was under the impression that I was one of the Last of the Time Lords, or the last - although I was rather hoping I was not. Ironic, I know." Braxiatel sighed, then leaned forward in his chair, his own hand on the side of his brother's bed but not touching the other Time Lord. "But there you have it. You have interesting 'friends'. For primitives they are capable of such learning, and such ingenuity. Their potential is impressive, if they can manage to pull themselves out of their savagry long enough."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Very well, I was on a tour bus under some x-tonic sunlight on a backwater resort called Midnight. Got into a spot of trouble, solved it, thank you very much, when I got a hint that it wasn't supposed to even be me on that bus. I tracked the errant time line back here, and... wouldn't you know it... guess who I find in the middle of it but my dear brother, lying on a sick bed. The universe has a sick sense of humour sending me in your stead, but I believe I managed to solve things to a satisfactory manner. That errant time line led me back here, to this time period and to this place where I find you." Braxiatel didn't move, but he did glance at his brother sideways as if considering something, something he wasn't sure he wanted to consider but if he let it be paradox in the astronomic scale could very well happen. "I'm going to regret this, however, I think I need to step into your shoes for awhile. Something is coming, soon, and you're in no shape to handle it and a Time Lord, maybe even a few Time Lords, need to sort it. I strongly suggest you let me."

The Doctor looked at his brother, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Let me get this straight. For years, no, centuries... maybe even millenia come to think of it... you have been telling me I'm a fool and it's a fool's errand to worry about humanity or other people. You know, the whole byline of our people you exemplify, the 'Observe, do not interfere' bit."

"I regret it already. Thank you, brother."

"No," the Doctor sighed, leaned back in his pillows. "Don't regret it. Perhaps now you know what I saw every time I stepped in. Well... sometimes... most of the time, and I will never admit this again... you were right about me. Couldn't help myself. Or I was just wandering and it found me."

"Like me and Midnight?" asked Braxiatel in horror. "You just happened to be there when things went sideways?"

"Yep."

Braxiatel leaned back and laughed. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"If it didn't happen to you, would you have believed it?"

"No," answered Braxiatel.

"So what was the point in saying anything?" The Doctor waved his hand around, dismissively. "Anyway. I have little choice but to take your suggestion, for now. What will you do?"

Braxiatel put his hands on his knees. "I was hoping you might have an idea."

"Well, I know that, for some reason, Donna Noble must be taken to Shan Shen in the 49th century, at the main market place. Something will happen there, she will... do something that will tweak another time line, make a straying on fall into place. For the life of me I don't know what..." The Doctor suddenly yawned, and then blinked rapidly. "Oh..."

Braxiatel jumped forward, feeling his brother's pulse in his neck, before laying a hand on each side of his chest, eyes closed in concentration. "Are you in pain?" asked Braxiatel.

"No... yes... maybe a little bit," answered the Doctor, tiredly. "Mostly just tired."

"Then sleep," said Braxiatel. "I'll get Donna to that place. But before you do, can you tell your friends that I am who I say I am. A certain Mr. Harkness has been shadowing me with a hand on his gun the entire time. And I think UNIT is also doing the same."

The Doctor nodded, and Braxiatel looked out in the hall. He could hear Braxiatel's voice. "He's awake, but not for much longer. I've talked him out for now."

It was Donna who came in and she sat down on the opposite side of Braxiatel. "Going to sleep on me again, Space Boy?"

Braxiatel snorted, barely containing his laughter. The Doctor shot him a look, as did Donna. "Almost," admitted the Doctor, a small smile on his face. "Donna Noble, this is Irving Braxiatel, as he prefers to be called, and my elder brother. In the literal sense. Brax, this is Donna. She travels with me, and is one of my closest friends."

"Ms. Noble," Braxiatel inclined his head.

Donna looked from Braxiatel to the Doctor and back again. "No way? Seriously?"

The Doctor nodded, and Braxiatel pretended to look anywhere but at his brother. Donna stood up and walked over to him, holding out her hand to be shook. Braxiatel took it, but she then pulled him into a hug, which he allowed, if stiffly. "It's so wonderful to meet you," she said, then pulled back and looked down at the Doctor. "Why the hell didn't you mention the brother, Dumbo?"

This time Braxiatel did laugh, wholeheartedly. "Oh, I like this one, brother."

"Before I go back to sleep again, Donna... Braxiatel has someplace... somewhen... to show you. I was going to take you there shortly, but he has generously offered to do so in my place since I'm here and not able to travel." The Doctor took a breath, seeing her about to argue and he held up a hand. "Listen to me Donna, you need to be there. It's that Fixed Point I was talking about. Only now you, Martha and the others win. I don't have to take you but he can - I'll stay here and rest and the Fixed Point stays in one piece. Like me, he is a Time Lord and knows it needs sorting. It's what brought him here in the first place."

"Speaking of which," she said. "He's got a TARDIS."

"Does he?" the Doctor quirked a brow. "Same one?"

"Of course. She's not as moody, or broken down, as yours but she is beginning to develop interesting quirks of her own," stated Braxiatel. "I believe we should do this presently, Ms. Noble... as well as perhaps my brother needs his rest."

Braxiatel led her out by the elbow. "_Take care of her, Brax_," came the Doctor's voice in Gallifreyan.

"_Of course_," answered Braxiatel back.

The Doctor watched the two of them leave, and then Jack stepped inside the room. "Your brother?" asked Jack quietly.

"Yep," answered the Doctor, leaning back in the pillows, his eyes already half-closed, although he was making a monumental effort to remain awake and keep them open.

Jack sat in the chair, and leaned back. "Go to sleep, Doctor. We'll talk later, if you're up to it."

The only reply was a soft hummed murmur as the Doctor gave up on fighting to keep his eyes open and let him close, barely a flicker of eyelids remaining. Finally with a deep sigh, his body relaxed and his breathing evened out in sleep, the barely flickering eyelids stilling. Jack folded the blanket up from where the Doctor had pushed it down to his waist while he was awake back up to over his shoulders so he was covered, smoothing his hair back while his did so. The Doctor was so deeply asleep that he never stirred when Jack lifted his arms to put them under the blanket or when he touched his hair.

Jack looked up to the sky and thanked Gods he didn't truly believe existed that Braxiatel had shown up when he did. The Doctor was clearly in no shape to travel, let alone pilot the TARDIS, to where ever, whenever, Donna was meant to be taken. And if the timelines were converging, something was coming that he'd feel the need to sort and he wasn't in any shape to.

He walked out into the hall, a thoughtful but worried expression on his face. "Can I have a conference with you four?" he asked Martha, Harry, Grace and Owen.

With their nods, he led them to a small room, an empty office by the look of it, and closed the door. "I have a nasty feeling that this place isn't going to be very safe for him for much longer."

"What do you suggest?" asked Harry.

"A secure location, preferably a secret military or similar, base. Someplace familiar and deeply, deeply hidden."

"Did Braxiatel not check out?" asked Owen.

"No, he's _exactly_ who he says he is. I overheard that conversation until they switched over into their own language, and then he introduced Donna to Brax and confirmed Braxiatel's story. He is the Doctor's brother - his elder brother, to be exact. In the literal sense. His words," answered Jack. "Braxiatel, I think, told his brother to stay put and that he'd take care of things but whatever the Doc sensed around Donna so did Brax and it brought him here. So, if it brought another Time Lord out of hiding, think about this for just one second."

"Oh shit," said Harry. "Of course it would be now. He's out of commission, naturally there'd be an invasion."

Grace and Martha took a breath. "But where the hell are we going to hide him from an alien invasion?" asked Martha.

"The _Valiant_?" asked Grace.

"No good, an invasion would make it a target, not a hiding place," answered Martha. "Jack... how do you feel about having a guest put up in the Hub?"

"You want to take the Doctor to Torchwood?" asked Harry incredulously.

"Canary Wharf killed the old Torchwood. The 'space Titanic' killed the old missive when the Queen proclaimed him to be a defender of the realm - which means we not only can't touch him in a hostile manner, but by all rights we're at his command," pointed out Owen. "And, quite frankly, seeing as that is the literal case, he'd be well hidden at the Hub."

"So, it's settled then? We'll move him to Cardiff. This one is going to take finesse," said Jack. "First, we need to have him transferred to Cardiff in the first place, and then we're going to have to get him out of the hospital, through another transfer to the Hub. The first is easy, I'm sure you four can handle that paperwork, but the rest not so easy. Owen, if you've got any suggestions."

"Might be easier to sign off on him going private from here," said Owen. "Makes the cover story of him requiring this much security easier to believe... all we need say is that the danger he was in in London followed us here and now we need to move him someplace classified."

Jack stopped then thought about it. "That's true," said Jack. "Logistics of that? How exactly are we going to move him? Ambulances tend to stick out like sore thumbs, as does a heli landing in the Plas."

"Don't use a helo or ambulance, then," suggested Grace. "He's strong enough that we would have considered, with our company, going to the TARDIS and offworld travel, with rest breaks. Why not stick to that plan and take him in the SUV. Move him by wheelchair, and if we give him a seat that reclines he can rest and sleep in the vehicle all he wants."

Martha nodded her agreement. "When do we do this?"

"As soon as possible," answered Harry. "We don't know when this event happens, we should move quickly."

"I'll arrange the SUV. Owen and I drove here in a Torchwood SUV anyway, we can take him in that. The back seats recline and the windows are tinted. We've got room for one more in that particular one." Jack looked around at them all, and Grace held up her hand. "Okay, Grace, you're coming with us. Martha, Harry you meet us at the hub. Take Ianto with you. We're not going to waste our time, but we aren't going to attract attention with our driving either. Take the fastest way possible and just get there and set up a space for him. I'll tell Tosh and Gwen to get started on it so that you only have to take care of the medical bits."

They walked out and Harry told the two UNIT guards what was happening, and then, with a nod, as one went with them to back up his story to the nursing staff and other doctors. Grace retrieved the wheelchair, the same one she had tucked away for him specifically, and they rolled it into his room. He was still deeply asleep, and they looked at each other, loathing to have to wake him. Grace moved to his side while Martha and Owen turned off the monitors, then unattached them, and then moved to his IV to turn that off as well.

Grace shook his left shoulder. "Doctor," she called softly. "Come on, wake up for me."

His eyelids flickered and he rolled his head over to face her as his eyes opened. The Doctor blearily took note of the activity above him. "Wha...?"

"Come on, it's not safe here anymore. We're moving you to... someplace safe," she edited at the last second.

"Where are you taking him?" asked the head nurse.

"It's classified," answered Harry Sullivan.

The Doctor tried to keep up with the thread of the conversation, but his tired body and mind didn't want to keep up. He was also in agreement and tried to hide from the noise around him. "Wanna sleep. G'way."

"Oh sure, _now_ you want to stay asleep," groused Martha. "Come on, you can sleep all you want in the SUV. But right now we need you awake enough to help us get you out of here."

"I don't think he cares," muttered Owen, but he helped Martha lift him into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

"Wha' the hell?" the Doctor opened his eyes, blinking them, and putting a hand to his head. "Oh my head. Dizzy... you sat me up too fast. Now what was that again about classified and danger?"

"We'll fill you in later, but you need to be moved," said Harry, helping him to his feet and then into the chair.

Martha tucked the blankets around his legs and waist, throwing another one for around his shoulders. "Come on, Jack will be bringing the SUV around. You are going with him, Owen and Grace. Right now."

She rolled him out of the room and to the elevator. Once in the elevator he looked up at them. "What the hell is going on?"

"Jack figured something out from the bits and pieces of what English you and your brother threw into the conversation awhile ago. You're not safe here. Something is coming - something big enough that not only you sensed it but it brought another Time Lord clear out of the time and location he was to here. Whatever it is... whenever it is coming..." Martha cut off. "So we're moving you to someplace else where you can't be found when it comes."

The Doctor nodded his understanding, but didn't say anything. He had a feeling he knew where Jack was taking him, and why it was so 'classified'. He had to agree on secure, though. Well, sort of. It was far more secure than the Leadworth Medical Center, however, he had to give it that. And far more classified.

The elevator dinged open and she pushed him out into the parking garage where Jack was idling the SUV. Jack jumped out, while Owen opened the back door behind the driver's side. Martha wheeled the chair up and locked the wheels. Jack tenderly helped the ailing Time Lord to his feet and then helped him shuffle his feet to finally get himself up into the SUV's backseat. On the other side, Grace slid into her seat and helped settle the Doctor, letting him rest his head on the headrest while they reclined the seat a bit and slid a pillow behind his head and, again, threw blankets over him. Martha kissed him on the forehead. "We'll see you later, Mister."

The Doctor smiled. "I'm sure of it."

Jack closed the door, and Martha's view of the Doctor was blocked by the tinting. Moments later, the SUV was gone. Harry, Martha and Ianto wasted no time, and Harry was already on his secure line requesting a helicopter to the _Valiant_.

When asked, he quietly whispered, "It will throw off any scent... if anyone suspects... whom ever or what ever is looking for him... or that threat that looms... will think we took him there. We'll just catch a ride down on a regular cargo flight down. That way it looks like we went up and never came back."

They followed him outside, where a jeep was already waiting. Martha looked one last time at Leadworth before letting herself be guided away.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

The trip from Leadworth in the the SUV was just over a two hour drive, when one considered traffic and that Jack was trying to not attract attention, blend in and just disappear into the the rest of traffic. The Doctor had been awake the first part of the trip, for around five minutes where he promptly asked at least four dozen times how long the drive was until Jack snappishly answered, "I think I preferred you when you were asleep."

"Jack!" admonished Grace from where she was trying to stifle the giggles.

Jack rolled his eyes. "It's around two hours, Doctor. We're trying to blend in."

"Now will you tell me where we're going? I have my suspicions, but I'd like to hear it from you."

"There's no bugs on him or in here... although, with that sonic whatsit he could be sure of it," said Owen.

"The sonic screwdriver?" asked Grace, looking at him as she fished it out of his things. "Looks different."

"I've updated it since then," he answered as he fiddled with it, then scanned himself, his things and around them all. "Nope, no bugs or tracers... now... what the hell is going on?"

"We're taking you to the Hub in Cardiff," answered Jack. "Torchwood is now leading the guard during your recovery. Our bases are hidden, secret. We're more invisible than UNIT."

"I'm also public enemy number one!" exclaimed the Doctor, then quieted with a wary look towards Grace. "I'm fine."

"Not anymore," corrected Owen. "The Queen changed all that a few years ago. We're at your fucking beck and call, so to speak."

For a long moment there was a shocked silence then Owen looked around. "Shit, sorry, been bottling all that up and acting nice for too long."

"Yep, I can see he works for you, Jack," said the Doctor dryly, leaning his head back, and then wincing.

"Are you in pain?" asked Jack in concern, looking at him from the rearview.

Grace looked over, and then looked him over. Owen turned around as much as he could in the seat. "He's pale," pointed out Owen. "Hey, how are you doing back there?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine..." answered the Doctor a bit breathlessly. "Just caught me by surprise."

"That worries me, you shouldn't still be in pain," said Grace. "That tells me you're still having little arrests."

"It's not in my chest."

"Oh?"

"I wrecked my shoulder once... fell rather hard on it. Dislocated it. The pain is from that," answered the Doctor.

"In this incarnation?" asked Jack, surprised. "When was this?"

"Oh... a while back. Tried to tell Donna it was nothing, but you know her. And the Master during the Year that Never Was also did something to the same shoulder. Wrenched it. I think it started the issue and then took just a few more hits to really wreck it. It bothers me when I'm not up to my best. Like now," he answered. "It's like doing it all over again."

"Yeah, so long as it's that," said Owen. "Grace, check his hearts and bp."

She did so as Jack pulled over to the side. "Everything is good. Owen, can you run to the other side and check his shoulder?"

Owen unbuckled himself and ran over to the door, and opened it. The Doctor leaned forward with a groan as Owen's fingers dug painfully into the knot in his shoulder and neck. "Oh, he's telling the truth, I can feel the knots on this side of him, and the play in the joint," confirmed Owen, who then gave him a glare. "You know, for future reference, it'd be a good idea to be up front and open about other mitigating health issues to your physicians so we aren't caught off guard like this and panic."

"All right," answered the Doctor weakly.

"I think he needs something. He's clammy. I think the pain is making him shocky," said Owen as he checked his eyes.

"No, no, I'm fine."

"No you're not, fuck... Jack you didn't tell me he's as stubborn as a little fricking kid," snarled Owen at Jack.

Grace shook her head in disapproval, but she saw the scowl and thought better of it. In truth, she was as annoyed at her friend as Owen was vocalizing. The Doctor didn't say anything either. He was either shocked into silence at Owen's moodiness or just in too much pain to care one way or the other. In truth he wasn't sure either - it was a mix of both. Jack sighed. "Doc..."

"Okay, okay, the bouncing around is bothering me."

"That's the best you'll get out of him," said Jack.

Grace pulled open the bag between them and took a measured dose, handed Owen the syringe. He then checked it before easing it into the IV port still in the back of the Doctor's left hand and injecting what was in it into the port. "We'll give this a few minutes to kick in, and when you start feeling a bit better we'll move on," said Jack, watching from the driver's seat, half turned around himself in concern.

The Doctor's colour was slowly returning in the meantime from the break in motion and bouncing around, as he put it. Owen leaned on the door frame, listening to the Doctor's pulse in his wrist. Ten minutes later, it was clear the Doctor was fading. Owen reclined the seat almost to horizontal, and then used the specialized straps for when the seat was so far reclined, moving it back a bit as well, pulling out the foot rest. "Didn't tell me this was also an ambulance," said Grace.

"It is and it isn't. Sometimes we have to take care of our own because the injuries would cause too many questions in a hospital A&E," answered Owen. "Other times it's the only way to transport an alien is when it's unconscious. Funny, didn't think it would be this one. Hey, Doctor... how are you feeling now?"

"Better," answered the Doctor dreamily.

Owen nodded as he put another pillow under the Doctor to relieve the pressure on the shoulder. "Okay, Jack, I think we'll be good for the rest of the trip now, but he'll be probably completely useless to help us get him into the Hub when we get there. Right, Doctor?" asked Owen at the end.

"Mmph," was the grunted answer, in delayed reply to his name being called.

"How are you feeling now?" asked Grace.

There was a cross between a hum and a grunt in answer, and then a slurred voice answered, "...M'fine."

Owen closed the door and Grace tucked the Doctor back into his blankets, noting that he was already snoring softly. She patted his chest lightly as Owen sat back in his seat and belted himself back up. "He's already sleeping," she said. "He'll sleep the whole trip now."

* * *

A few hours later, Jack drove into the concealed garage and Gwen and Tosh were ready with a stretcher to move the Doctor from the SUV. They gently sat him up, just barely waking him so that he could shuffle and stagger over to it and lay back down again, sleeping within minutes again as they wrapped him warmly and wheeled him back into the hub. "We set up the conference room for him," said Gwen. "We figured you'd want him close, but someplace quiet."

"Good, thanks," said Jack as they lifted the ambulance stretcher up to the conference room.

He looked around. The conference table had been carefully dismantled and packed away out of sight. In it's place, but the headboard against a solid wall so that the occupant could see the screen of the flat screen or out into the hub on two sides, if they wanted to. A few of the conference chairs were re-used as more comfortable visitors chairs in the Doctor's new room. Medical equipment and monitoring equipment was all in easy reach, but secured down. "Okay, let's get him settled and then we're going to turn that screen right off and close the blinds and let him get some sleep," ordered Owen. "Grace, I realize you're the cardiologist here, but as the general practitioner in charge of the case while he's here, he's my patient."

"Understood." Grace smiled at the acerbic but professional young doctor. "He's starting to not really need a cardiologist except in special cases. I'll be handing him over to you and moving back to the role of friend."

Owen nodded, then she and him hooked the Doctor back up to his IV drip and put the blood oxygen monitor back on his left index finger. The Doctor slept on, oblivious to the changes or his new sleeping arrangement. She then let Owen do his thing and set up the same personal items as he had in the room in Leadworth, making sure the clock calendar was in sight, and the diary in easy reach. She took some quick notes when Owen left, then smoothed back his fringe and left his room, turning off the lights as she did so. Only the soft glow from the clock, and what little light bled through the blinds lit up the Doctor's sleeping face.

* * *

The next morning the cog door opened and the trio consisting of Ianto, Martha and Harry walked in. Ianto looked around, as did Martha. Harry looked around, ducked as he saw the... whatever it was that swooped down on him. "Jesus... it that a..."

"Yes," came answers from at least five other people.

"He's got a bad shoulder," said Owen without any preamble. "It started bothering him in the ride here and we had to give him something for the pain. That and the strain from the trip caused him to sleep all yesterday and last night. He woke up this morning and not feeling that great, but better than what his charts say he was like when he was moved to Leadworth."

"He's getting stronger," said Harry, reading over the notes. "Good, you'll be leading this now, Owen. I have to get back to UNIT. I'll be in and out every so often to see how he's doing. He awake now?"

"Yeah, watching TV on the conference room screen. The girls set up his room up there so he's got a quiet spot to rest but also isn't in a dank storeroom or autopsy. It's up that way." Owen pointed to the catwalk and stairs, and then to the room itself where one side of the blinds were open to the office space, but not the hub entrance itself.

The doors were open on either side of the room, meaning the Doctor could hear what was happening outside his room. Martha and Harry walked up the stairs and into the room. The Doctor looked away from the screen and smiled. Martha walked over, smoothed back his hair and sat down beside him. "Hey, Mister, Owen tells me you aren't feeling that great today."

"Ah, can't escape your notice, can I?" asked the Doctor tiredly. "Just a bit tired. Getting the grand tour... for the slow path."

"Enjoy it while it lasts," said Harry. "The TARDIS is fine, we checked on it this morning. We're arranging to have it moved here to the Hub so you're in sight of each other. We suspect that may help a bit. But no taking off."

"She probably wouldn't let me anyway."

"Well, I'm going to sign off your case as your doctor, Doctor," said Harry. "UNIT needs me back and Torchwood has everything in hand. Martha is being recalled back too. We'll come by and visit, or call. But it's all down to Dr. Harper and Dr. Holloway now. You take care of yourself."

"Thanks Harry, I will. It was good seeing you again, despite the circumstances," said the Doctor as they shook hands.

Martha gave him a hug and a kiss on the forehead, before she too left. With a sigh he watched them leave, using the remote to make the blinds open. As they walked past the cog door, they turned and waved and he waved back. He then closed the blinds again, and then turned off the TV and rubbed his face. He'd been awake long enough. A few minutes of sleep wouldn't hurt.

* * *

He woke in time for lunch, as the smell of the food woke him. With a sigh of satisfaction he was pleased to note that it wasn't hospital food. He pulled the table closer to him and lifted the lid just as Grace walked in. "That smells so much better than what they were feeding me before."

"Ianto got it from across the street, with my guidance."

"I'm sure it's delicious."

He tucked in and was pleased to note it was as good as he thought it was and he finished the sandwich, as well as the soup and the fluffy desert. While he sipped his tea, she turned to him and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, but better, I suppose."

"And your shoulder?"

"Not bothering me as much."

"As much?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Implies it's bothering you somewhat, and if you're admitting to it, worse than somewhat."

He sighed. "It is, but it's not bad. An ache that only gets sharp if I move around too much. Have you heard anything from Braxiatel and Donna?"

"No, but I suppose it will work like it does for you. We'll hear from them when he brings her back and when whatever brought him here hits the fan." Grace sighed and then stood up. "I am going to leave you to it. Jack said that Ianto is buying you a laptop, a phone and bringing some books they figure you'll be interested in. Things to keep you occupied. Tosh is thinking about getting you to help her with her little project, but I don't have the clearance to talk about it beyond that. I have to head back to UNIT myself soon... you've recovered enough that my professional services are now by consultation only, and that is only periodically as your general physician deems necessary, and that is Dr. Owen Harper. He's... strange and acerbic but good at what he does. Listen to him, will you? I'd rather be coming to see you because I just want a cup of tea, not because you're on my table."

The Doctor gave a half-hearted mock of a salute with two fingers. "Yes, Ma'am."

She then hugged him and gave him a kiss on the forehead, in much the same way as Martha had. "I'll see you around, Doctor. Don't be a stranger - they're bringing you that phone for a reason. And it wouldn't kill you to drop me a line by email either, now that you've a laptop of your own."

With that Grace was gone and the Doctor sighed, leaning back into the pillow and his bed. Jack came in, and smiled. "Hey, gorgeous, you up to some company?"

"Sure," answered the Doctor. "What's up?"

"You bored silly yet?"

"_Yes_." And the Doctor's answer was very pronounced. "But I have a feeling you won't let me do what I normally like to do."

"Not yet, Owen says you still need to rest and recover, and given you hardly can walk yet, I don't think you're up to the full brunt of what I'd like you to do." For once that didn't sound sexual from Jack, in fact, it sounded far too business like, and the Doctor frowned thoughtfully in response. "Tosh has a pet project that you can help her with from your wheelchair, and from this room. She just wants to pick your brain, really. She doesn't let people touch her computers. Owen has a few things he wants your opinion on, but he told me flat out that no matter how large the backlog he wasn't going to show you more than one thing a day. While the light duty will keep your mind busy, he wants you to rest and recover. And then, and only then, he not so subtly suggested that if you are not cleared for 'travel' by the shared council of doctors then maybe you'd like to come work for us - you'd not have to come out in the field at all. He made it clear if you can't travel, then you can't work the field."

The Doctor sighed. "Me work for Torchwood?"

"That so bad?"

"Well, no," answered the Doctor. "But I belong out there."

"And if you have to retire?"

"Well, it's not a bad place to retire, really," answered the Doctor, not sounding as depressed about it as he had before. "I suppose I should have thought about it earlier. I have friends... and now family it appears... and a place for me for awhile. Maybe, if not retirement permanently, an extended vacation on Earth is in order. Enough happens here as it is... why go looking for it?"

Jack grinned. "Welcome on board, Dr. Jamie Smith."

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N**: I figured a good place to end "Fear" was when the Doctor's fear of being locked down in a single place evaporated. Now I leave it all up to everyone else - after I'm done Legacy (because I'm not picking up this arc until that one is done!) would you like me to write another installment of this?

_Dedicated to all survivors of Heart Disease & Stroke, and their families, as well as the victims who didn't make it. Written for Heart & Stroke Month._


End file.
